


Everyone Has A Vice, Pine. What Is Yours?

by Caffiend



Category: British Actor RPF, British actor - Fandom, Jaguar "British Villains" Commercial, The Night Manager (TV) RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom, Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction, british actors
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, F/M, Human Trafficking, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Reader Insert, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6, Sex Clubs, Spanking, Spies, Suit Kink, chemical weaponry, dubcon, international crime ring, sex dungeon, vices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2020-01-07 06:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 52,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18404771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiend/pseuds/Caffiend
Summary: That pivotal scene in "The Night Manager" where Richard Roper is trying to dig his way into Jonathan Pine's defenses, asking "Everyone has a vice, Pine. What is yours?"  From a wonderful thought starter from the diabolical brain of GingerAngelica.





	1. I Expect To Be In Charge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GingerAngelica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerAngelica/gifts).



> I'm trying reader insert this time- a different view and hopefully one you'll enjoy. Please correct me if I mix up the POV, would you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jonathan Pine, deep undercover and just trying to get through Roper's nightmare of arms-dealing and murder alive, is drawn into a discussion of his vices.

 

 

"Everyone has a vice, Pine. What is yours?"

Jonathan Pine's head was throbbing with the ever-present headache he'd had since his beating- thank you very much, arsehole operatives- while "rescuing" Richard Roper's son from the "attempted kidnapping." The only person truly damaged from that pivotal moment was him, but the ribs had mostly healed and the bruises faded. And now his torture was primarily mental, with both Roper and that little troll Corky digging into him at every opportunity, searching for weaknesses, a mistake, a slip in his identity. And because he'd really like to get the fuck out of that room after hours of this uncomfortable conversation, Pine rubbed his forehead and gave a harsh bark of laughter. "A vice..."

"You've rejected all offers of drugs," Roper pressed, "you don't drink to excess, I haven't even seen you touch a cigarette."

Corky laughed, that high, obnoxious one that always drilled through Jonathon's aching head like a dentist's instrument, "And you don't even avail yourself of the whores. Really, Pine. Should I instruct them to bring a handsome young man next time?"

"No, I'll leave that to you," Pine retorted dangerously, ignoring Roper's mocking laugh, "the... ladies are very attractive, but they lack something I need from who I take to bed."

"And that is...?" Roper was definitely intrigued now, even putting his cigar down in anticipation.

"I..." Jonathan floundered just slightly, before forcing a boyish grin, "I expect to be in charge. Completely in charge. I expect complete submission." He took another gulp of scotch, eyeing the other men, "It takes a while to train a girl to my tastes, not something I've had time or opportunity for here."

The flat, pale eyes of his new employer met his, and Pine forced himself to raise one haughty brow. Roper’s gaze was blank, dead almost. A rattlesnake’s stare. “Ah,” the older man drawled, picking up his cigar again, puffing reflectively. “I’ve always wanted an in-home dungeon.” Both Pine and Corky automatically chuckled, and the conversation was blessedly shelved.

 

At least, that’s what Jonathan thought.

 

Another night at another ridiculously expensive restaurant. Pine had tasted exquisite meals from some of the best hotels around the world, thanks to his (former) profession, but the array of spectacular food in Italy seemed never-ending. Also never-ending was Corky's high-pitched giggles and the man's pleasure in tormenting the wait staff. Such as the pretty server currently trying to deliver a tray of perfect little desserts to their table. She was young, and not sophisticated enough yet to not flush uncomfortably at the flurry of filthy innuendo about "Show us your sweet cherry, darling..." Corky looked around the table innocently, "What? I meant your cherry desserts?" The hangers-on and thugs requisite to protect Roper for any outing all laughed obediently, even Jed, who usually rolled her eyes at the man's antics. Perhaps Jed- Roper's mistress- hadn't missed how his eyes had been following the lovely waitress around during the meal.

Picking up his drink, Pine stood and wandered in a casual fashion away from the dinner party. Just stretching his legs, it was clear to anyone watching. But to get away from them for five minutes- just enough to make the buzz-saw in his brain slow down a bit…

“Here, Gio- there’s enough for everyone tonight.” The sweet voice of their server and her shaky Italian pulled Pine out of his musing. He’d strolled around to the back corner of the restaurant, where the back door was open to the alley and two youngsters with the anxious look of the homeless and hungry stood, shifting their feet as they took a large bag from the girl.

“Grazie, Bella!” the lad- apparently Giovanni- responded happily, giving the girl a quick kiss on the cheek before he caught a glimpse of Pine, leaning against the brick wall of the eatery. He must have looked intimidating, Jonathan thought, his tall shadow darkening the entrance to the alley because the boys smiled uneasily and scampered past him with their bag of food.

“You won’t tell, will you?” It was soothing, hearing the server’s voice, soft and sweet. She was looking up at him with an anxious smile on those pretty lips, “It’s just leftover food from the prep line- they would just throw it away. It’s not from Mr. Roper’s meal or anything…”

Jonathan smiled down at her suddenly, a warm, reassuring grin that made his eyes turn the shade of the Mediterranean just outside the restaurant. “No darling, I think it’s lovely that you’re not letting it go to waste.”

“You’re English!” the girl said happily, “It’s nice to hear it again. You’d think my Italian would be better by now, but…”

Despite himself, Pine asked, “Have you been here long?” What was he doing, talking to this girl? He needed to get back to the group. But her voice was beautiful, low and clear. It was soothing to listen to- almost musical and for the first time that night, his head didn’t feel like something was digging its claws into his cerebral cortex.

The girl looked over her shoulder to the light of the open door, “I just came here for the summer,” she confided, “I’m trying to improve my Italian for a scholarship.”

“Ah,” Pine nodded, anything to keep listening to that lovely, calming tone. “You’re studying Italian at university?”

She nodded, “Linguistics, actually, I'm working toward my Ph.D.”

He leaned against the brick again, careful to leave room between them. Jonathon used his considerable height and bulk where it was useful- to intimidate, the alarm- but this lovely creature deserved neither. “What other languages do you speak?”

A pretty blush, she was modest, charming- he thought. “Um, Russian, French, Italian- sort of!” Another blush, he noted, “Arabic, Spanish, and some Mandarin.” She sighed despondently. “I’ll never master that.”

Pine found himself laughing again. It sounded unfamiliar, he’d given nothing but the occasional polite chuckle for so long now... “The only thing more difficult, I understand, are the African click languages.”

”Omigosh!” she gasped excitedly, “I’ve always wanted to study Khoisan- such an incredible series of phonemes and-“

”Jonathan Pine.” His hand was out before he could think how stupid this was, but her smaller hand was already shyly squeezing his.

”Oh, nice to meet you, Mr. Pine,” she answered back, that pretty flush lighting her skin again, “I'm-”

”Jonathan! We’re leaving!” The haughty drawl of Sandy Langboyrne interrupted them, his pale blue eyes shifting between them curiously.

Smoothly pulling his hand from the girl's, Jonathan straightened, his face a neutral mask once more. “On my way.”

 

Roper, Sandy, and Corky were enjoying the last of their lunch on the expansive deck of the estate as they watched Pine run back and forth in the surf with Daniel. Even though he was now deep into the next step of Roper’s plans, Pine still seemed to enjoy spending time with Roper’s son, far more so than the boy’s father. 

“You purchased the package?” Roper asked, still watching Daniel laughing and splashing.

Corky smirked, even more annoyingly than usual. “Oh, yes. More trouble than we expected, but all bound up in paper and twine and ready for delivery tonight.”

”A package?” Jed joined them with a charming smile, leaning over to give Roper a lingering kiss. By her expression, it was clear she was expecting the delivery to be an expensive something for her.

“Not for you, darling.” Roper knew his mistress well. “Something for Jonathon, this time. He’s been such a good lad.” A pretty little frown creased Jed’s forehead as the other two men almost giggled.

“Really? What kind of present? A Rolex, or-”

By now Sandy was openly chortling and Corky, usually her ally, wore a nasty little smile. “Perhaps not as durable, Jed dear. We shall see.”

 

It was after dinner that night at the estate, and Pine’s senses were on high alert. Something was off. Roper’s minions were grinning and whispering, repeatedly glancing over at him. The man himself was simply staring at him, with an alarming expression of… anticipation? Fuck, Jonathan thought, his headache getting worse. Another test?

”My boy!" Richard Roper was at his most affable, which was never a good sign. To a man as sadistic as his boss, "affable" was simply a precursor to horrible. "You've been such a valuable new addition to the team- we wanted to reward you."

Pine forced himself to chuckle. "A Lamborghini, I hope."

It was back, that flat rattlesnake gaze in Roper's eyes. "Oh, quite a bit better, I think."

Ignoring the sniggering from the others, Jonathon pasted a look of polite inquiry on his face. "What could possibly be better than an Italian sports car?" The look of anticipation on their faces made him a little sick.

"Why, your vice, of course!" chortled Corky, "And we went to such trouble to find you the perfect little thing." Two of the estate thugs carried in a box with an incongruous pink bow on top. To Jonathon's vague horror, the container was shaking. "Open your gift, Pine," the smaller man urged with a greasily spiteful expression.

Shrugging elegantly, Jonathan flipped open a switchblade he kept in his pocket and sliced the ribbon easily, watching it float to the beautiful marble floor before lifting the lid. Crumpled at the bottom, hands cruelly bound to her ankles with a ball gag wedged between her lips was their lovely server from the night before, wearing nothing but some alarmingly skimpy lingerie. She'd been crying and she stiffened, looking up at him with sudden hope.

"Your vice, Pine," drawled out Roper, "a sweet little thing that's disappeared from the face of the earth-" a sob from the box broke his narrative as they all laughed, "all yours. You own her, body and soul."

 

 

 


	2. You Will Call Me Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you are given a set of rules. And a bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beloved misreall helped me think through how Jonathan Pine could ever be convinced to turn a kidnapped girl into his sub. Wanting to keep her alive is powerful, and misreall said this: "Pine is capable of anything, no matter how dark if he is committed." So if his treatment of our girl seems alarming or out of character, remember why.
> 
> PS: I swear I'm writing the next chapter of "Reluctant Bride," for those who are interested. It just requires more research now that we're getting all complicated and shit.

 

You stared up at the man who’d been so nice to you the night before, his expression was blank. ‘Looks like he wasn’t expecting me, either,’ you thought bitterly. That brief flash of hope you’d had when you’d seen his face as he opened the lid was dying. You had thought he was so handsome when he’d talked to you behind the restaurant- how his eyes lit up when he smiled- but now he looked as cold and heartless as the rest of them. You were making small, urgent noises behind the disgusting gag without really hearing yourself, and he finally spoke. 

“Hush.”

A sob burst from you but when his eyes turned polar you nodded quickly, trying to get your tears under control. He was so nice last night- surely he would let you go, right? 

“I’m beginning to envy you this one, Pine.” Another British accent and an angular face appeared now, looking you over indifferently, like a cut of meat. “Such fun to train up into your good little girl, eh?”

”A hundred pounds says she’ll be calling him ‘Daddy’ by midnight!” Another voice was eagerly shouting and you squeezed your eyes closed, wishing you had earplugs along with the gag.

 

You’d gone to sleep in your little shared flat after getting home from the restaurant and woke up when they were tying your wrists to your ankles. You were on your back in some freezing concrete room and you reflexively kicked out, trying to get loose. That earned you a slap across the face and a fist in your hair. It was a woman, and she put her face close to yours. “Stai zitto, stupida puttanella!”

“Per favore, dove sono?” You’d attempted to just find out where you were- not even why, and that earned you two more slaps, so hard your ears were ringing.

She’d taken your sleep shorts and tank top off when you were unconscious and put you in this itchy lace teddy that was currently riding up your butt. Two men came in to look you over, one a well-dressed man you’d seen at the restaurant before and conversed with the woman. When you couldn’t stop crying they’d shoved this gag in your mouth and threatened to put tape over your nose if you didn’t shut up. The men lifted you into a giant box- with air holes like you were a pet getting shipped in a cargo hold. One very bumpy ride later and here you were. 

 

Blinking back the tears, you tried to focus on the man and the room. Maybe if you could figure out where you were, you could get the hell out of this mess. You could go to the police and get every one of these sickos...

"MMMMPH!" Jonathan Pine had abruptly pulled you to your feet by your bound hands, holding on to your upper arm to keep you from swaying dizzily. Looking around the room, you saw another woman, very tall, blonde, expensively dressed. You tried to catch her gaze, surely another woman would help you? But she kept hers turned away, taking another drink of wine. But it was mostly men, all staring at you with ugly grins and you started to shake. Pine wasn't going to- they weren't going to _rape_ you, were they? The tears started flowing again and the man holding you leaned down to growl in your ear. 

"You will be silent or I will leave you here with them." 

Sucking in your breath until you almost choked, you nodded rapidly. 

"Well..." Pine was walking around you now, hands on his expensively suited waist. "Such a thoughtful gift, Richard. The right size and color..." the men laughed again as he mockingly compared you to what- a sweater or something? "She'll fit just fine." He leaned down to breathe in the scent of your terror as the laughter rose to a roar. You were excruciatingly aware of how little the horrible lingerie covered and you tried to bring your shackled hands up to cover your breasts. "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me?" His switchblade came out again as Pine sliced your ankles free, then taking your bound wrists in one big hand and yanking you towards the door, you stumbling a little as you tried to catch your balance. Your heart was thundering in your chest and little black dots were beginning to dance in your eyes, making the room blurry.

"Don't you dare faint," Pine growled, the low tone of menace cutting through the men's vulgar shouts and suggestions.

Nodding again, you concentrated on trying to keep your footing as he led you rapidly down a massive, curving staircase and through the front entry. 

 

 

Pine's POV

Bloody. Fucking. Hell.

Pine’s teeth were grinding in fury. He _knew_ he shouldn’t have spoken to the girl. He knew they were always watching him! And now she was stumbling through the sand behind him as he hauled her towards his beach cottage. Thank god he was at least settled away from the main house. Rubbing his forehead, Jonathan tried to concentrate. There were no listening devices in the cottage, he swept it every day. But he couldn’t tell the girl anything. He’d already cost another woman her life. How was he going to fix this?

Opening the door, he stiffened to see another large box with another ridiculous pink ribbon. Seating the shaking girl in a nearby chair, he pointed a finger at her. “Do not move.” Her eyes were huge over the vile ball gag, but she nodded again, trying to wipe the drool coming from the gag on her shoulder.

Mouth tight, Jonathan read the note attached to the box. "Accessories for your new doll." Another slice from his switchblade and the ribbon and lid came loose to show a small fortune in BDSM gear. Whips, floggers, more gags, shackles and chains, a spreader bar and several leather pieces that could serve as adornment for his new "toy" or as punishment. There were several other things that even Pine didn't recognize. Turning back to the girl, he held up some leather cuffs attached to a short chain. Staring at them, she began weeping again, silently this time. He took in a deep breath, letting it out through his nose. He had no choice. Not if he wanted this girl to live. Jonathan dropped the shackles he was holding back into the box. "I'm going to take those cuffs off you," his voice was cold, but composed, nodding at her wrist cuffs. "You will not struggle. Do you understand?"

She nodded furiously.

Other than flinching as he took her hands, she held still as Pine unlocked the cuffs. Watching her dispassionately as the girl gingerly rubbed her wrists, he ignored the twinge at the sight of her wounds. The handcuffs had been too tight- during play at least one should be able to slip a finger between the cuff and wrist to make certain there was enough room- and the idiots who abducted her hadn’t bothered. What happened to keeping the merchandise unmarked? There was a cut on her right wrist, and red marks on both that would bruise.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Jonathan asked.

She shook her head, hunching her shoulders a little and then pointed at the gag, clearly not daring to take it off without his permission. He was disgusted with himself at the stirring in his cock at her submissiveness. Most women would have yanked out the ball gag and screamed the house down. Reaching around to the back of her head, he felt for the buckle and loosened it to remove the device. The girl gave a shuddering gasp and flexed her jaw, which Pine knew would be sore for the next 24 hours at least.

He sighed inwardly. And now, the hard part. Once again, he reminded himself: ‘You have no choice. Not if you want this girl to live.’

"Take off your clothes," Jonathan's voice was ice.

 

 

Your POV

“Take off your clothes.”

You began shaking and wrapped your arms around yourself. For a second there it had seemed like maybe this Pine guy was unhappy with what they’d done to you, but now it was gone and his face looked like it had been carved from marble. “Pl- please Mr. Pine, can you just let me go? I won’t tell-”

Suddenly his big hand was holding your sore jaw and he squeezed. Not enough to hurt but enough to definitely get your attention. “You will be silent. You will not speak unless given permission.” He shook your chin briskly. "Nod if you understand."

You felt like one of those marionettes the puppeteers used on the Plaza on the weekends, acting out silly plays for the kids and the tourists. Your head nodded on its own.

"Good girl," his tone changed slightly, sounding a bit warmer, approving. But then the chill was back. "Now, do as I say, darling and take off that ridiculous lingerie." It didn't even feel sexual, you thought wildly, he was standing back from you, eyes on your face, not your body. But it didn't mean he wasn't going to rape you, and- 

"Do NOT cry again," he said sharply, "you can be mine alone, or I can give you to the guards. But I will not tolerate any more tears. Make your choice."

Oddly, something about this man giving you the first choice you'd had since being drugged and dragged out of your apartment gave you courage, and your hand slowly rose to one tiny strap and then the other, the lace garment dropping to your waist. You knew your face was fire engine red. All the other students working abroad happily went topless on the Italian beaches with the locals, but you still wore your two-piece. 

"Finish." The order was crisp, he snapped the word like an officer directing his troops.

When the sad excuse for underwear dropped to the floor, you awkwardly angled one thigh over the other, but Pine didn't correct you. He didn't even seem to be looking at you sexually, more appraising. 

Finally, he took your hand and pulled you toward a door. You were about to dig in your heels again when he opened it to reveal a bathroom with a surprisingly huge tub. Though looking up, up and up some more at how ridiculously tall your kidnapper was, you could see where that was an asset. Seating you on a little bench next to a stack of white towels, Pine calmly pulled off his jacket, shaking it and laying it neatly on the counter. Rolling up his sleeves he revealed tanned, extremely well-defined forearms. Starting the bath, he poured in a little grapeseed oil then turned to regard you again. "I'm guessing it was pitch-black when they tried to put that makeup on you," he said, "perhaps on the boat ride over?"

You were on an island? There were dozens of little craggy rocks of land rising from the Mediterranean around here. "Am I supposed to answer, or-"

Shockingly, he chuckled a little, which made his stupid, handsome face even more handsome. How could you possibly find the man who was apparently keeping you as a slave as someone attractive? What the hell was wrong with you? He'd just seemed so kind at the restaurant...

"You may answer," Pine allowed.

"I don't know exactly, I went to sleep in my own flat and woke up in a cellar. They wouldn't tell me anything. This woman made me put on that lace thing and she slapped some makeup on me."

"She took the slapping quite literally," he noted with a frown, looking at the red welts on your cheeks. He turned you toward the mirror and you gasped. There was mascara dripping down your face and your lips, swollen from that horrible ball thing were painted a lurid, cotton candy pink. Your hair was a wild tangle and- was that a pink _bow?_ What the hell? 

You knew you looked young for your age, but that was creepy. You heard the water stop running and Jonathan was behind you again.

“Get in the tub.” It didn’t look like he was taking his clothes off, and you gave a shaky sigh of relief as you stepped into the water. It stung the scrapes and cuts on your ankles and wrists, but the water was hot and it felt so good. He let you soak for a moment, moving around the bathroom while keeping an eye on you. “Lean forward,” Jonathan ordered and you hesitated until you felt his firm hand on the back of your neck, pushing you forward and exposing your back. When his calloused thumb moved over a spot on your throat, you made a small moan of pain. “Ah, there’s the injection site,” he said calmly. Then he set to washing your back with a soft sponge, then your arms, carefully avoiding your cuts and bruises, and lifting one foot and then the other. When the hand holding the sponge headed for your chest you blurted, “Could I please wash my- AH!” Pine’s other hand went to the top of your head and shoved you under the water, then quickly pulling you back up, gasping and sputtering.

 

 

Pine's POV

"Did I give you permission to speak?" he asked blandly as the girl coughed up a startled swallow of bathwater, glaring at him the entire time.

She was clearly conflicted, should she answer him? Was that permission, or-

Pine sighed, putting shampoo into her hair and beginning to work it through the tangled strands, "An addendum to Rule One: you will not speak until asked a direct question." He was trying not to think about the thick, wet silk of her hair. Or about those rather spectacular breasts that were temptingly bare. Keep her alive, he reminded himself.

"No, you didn't give me permission," she answered, clearly torn between being furious or weepy again.

"Look at me." When her eyes came up to meet his polar ones, Jonathan groaned internally. Beautiful creature, why did she have to be so tempting? But if he did not make her obey, and play his perfect submissive, then he knew Roper would throw her to his men- likely after taking a turn himself. So he steeled himself again. "I will be very clear on the rules I expect you to follow. You will listen and memorize them. I will expect you to repeat them back to me correctly." She'd drawn her knees up to her chest, arms wrapping around them defensively. That meant those spectacular breasts were out of sight, a pity.

"Rule 2: I now own you. I know this is an alien concept, but you will accept it. Your life depends on it."

The girl was utterly still now, listening intently, eyes wide. "If you do not please me, our host will give you to his men, or sell you back to the people who took you. Your next destination would be..." Pine swallowed. He'd served in the Middle East. He'd seen so many terrible things done to women there. Egypt- he turned his thoughts away quickly and tightened his fingers slightly in her hair. "Would be worse than death. I assure you, becoming my Pet is quite preferable to every other option open to you. Do not place your hopes on being rescued. Your family has already received word that you are dead." A huge, convulsive sob broke past the hand she'd slapped over her mouth. Jonathan took a nozzle and began rinsing her hair. "The process of acquiring girls is very thorough and convincing to anyone- family, friends- who would cause a fuss." Her shoulders were shaking and he felt like a monster. Like he really was the man Roper and his cadre of sick fucks thought he was. But he would keep her alive.

"Rule 3: You are now my Pet. Your name is part of your old life.

Rule 4: You will obey me immediately.

Rule 5: You will not attempt to seek help outside of our group. If you do this, I will be forced to kill them, and their blood will be on your hands."

She was crying in earnest now, still trying to muffle the sound. He stood her up in the tub, wrapping a thick towel around her and seating her in front of the vanity. Taking up a brush and beginning to run it through the girl's hair, Pine continued resolutely.

"Rule 6: you will call me Daddy."

 

 

“Stai zitto, stupida puttanella!” - Italian for “Shut up, you stupid little bitch!”

 

“Per favore, dove sono?” - Italian for “Please, where am I?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah! I'm so used to writing lovely Thomas stories that I had to go through this chapter three times and change Thomas to Jonathan. *rolls eyes* Thank you as always for reading.


	3. Bad Girls Do Not Get To Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jonathan gets you all clean. And then gets you all dirty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... wow! Thank you for how enthusiastically this story has been received! I'm a bit out of my comfort zone writing this tale, so I truly appreciate the support. Thank you as always for reading.

 

 

 

(Your POV)

"C- call you what?" You never liked feeling stupid, and the amused expression on Jonathan’s face was making you want to punch him... if punching him didn't involve a quick and hideous death, which you were certain it would. 

"You heard me," he answered, the amusement in his expression fading to chill again. "In fact, you're a bright girl, and I'm confident you can repeat back everything I've just told you. Do so now."

You tried, you really did- but then the horror of what he'd told you about your family thinking you were dead hit you again and you began to weep uncontrollably, sobs coming out in desperate, hitching breaths because you were trying to smother them. Because Pine had told you that you couldn't cry anymore. The icy stare of his was back and his hands tightened on your upper arms. "My people really think I'm dead?" you gasped out, "They really told my aunt that I'm- that I died?"

The man holding you took in a deep sigh- making his broad chest swell and making you feel even smaller. His hands were huge- they could squeeze the life out of you with no trouble, in fact, you suspected you wouldn't be the first life he'd taken. But you didn't care. Everyone who mattered to you- well, the few to whom _you_ mattered- thought you were dead. You may as well be. He picked you up like you weighed nothing - you were right about the strength in those arms- and carried you into the bedroom, placing you on the bed with your back against the pillows. He wouldn't stop looking at you with those chilly blue eyes- like a polar sea. When it looked like you might be slowing down, he handed you a glass of water.

"Drink it." 

Your hand was shaking so he kept his grip on the glass as well, bringing it to your lips. After managing half the glass, you pulled away, wiping the back of your hand against your wet mouth and cheeks. He hadn't said anything yet, but he hadn't killed you either, so maybe that was a good sign. He plucked a tissue from a nearby box and held it to your nose. 

"Blow."

Wide-eyed, you tried to take it from Pine but he shook his head.

"Blow. Your. Nose."

Humiliated, you leaned in a little and blew your nose into the tissue. He gently wiped your nose and threw the tissue away, settling you back against the pillow.

"I am going to be patient with you tonight because I know your world has been taken away from you and I suspect you're in shock. No one else would do this for you in your new life. Do not expect it again." 

You were dizzy and a little sick, but you tried to nod your head. You weren't supposed to speak, right? That wasn't a direct question... rubbing your forehead, you tried not to cry again and make him angry. He was leaning over you and blocking out the light from the room. 

"You should be grateful, little girl. It is a ruthless practice, but determined family members with children who have disappeared have been known to hire detectives, demand more police involvement. These people- if they make enough noise- end up dead. Truly dead. You wouldn't want that, now would you, darling?"

Violently shaking your head, you felt the dizziness get worse. "No, I don't- I'm sorry... no."

His hand went to your chest, the heel of it rested over your heart and his long fingers stroked your neck. “Breathe, you’re going to hyperventilate.” Jonathan took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Breathe with me, darling, in... out... Again. In... out...” when your breathing matched his, Pine’s fingers stroked your throat lightly, “Good. Good girl. That’s right. Such a good girl.”

You hadn’t heard your new... (Captor? Owner?) talk much but the sound of his voice- when he wasn’t being terrifying- was beautiful. Deep, resonant. As a linguist, you loved listening to language and by extension, voices. Pine’s diction was precise and crisp, his tone could feel like a caress on your cold skin when he was trying to calm you. There was an odd shiver moving up your spine when he called you a “good girl.” Were you really that pathetic? That desperate for approval? Then the sane corner in your woozy brain coldly pointed out: “His approval is the only thing keeping you alive.” So, you shakily took another drink of water and tried to focus. Your mouth opened to ask a question, and then you awkwardly closed it. You weren’t supposed to speak without being asked a direct question. Rule one.

Pine’s brow rose, correctly interpreting your action. “A very good girl.”

 

 

(Pine’s POV)

A good girl, indeed. Once again furious at himself for letting her desire to please affect him, Jonathan shifted uncomfortably to relieve the pressure on his swelling cock. ‘She’s desperate to please because she doesn’t want you to kill her, you bastard.’ The thought shamed him, even though his stubborn cock stayed hard. Nonetheless, Jonathan’s mouth tightened, he would keep her alive. “Back to my request. Repeat your rules back to me.” Her eyes were swollen and red from crying, but this girl... she may be shy, but she had courage. 

“Um, rule one, don’t speak unless asked a direct question.” She looked up and he merely nodded.

”Rule two, you...” Pine thought she might start crying again, but she forced herself to continue. “You own me.

Rule three, I don’t...” Her pretty eyes were welling with tears. “I don’t have a name anymore. I’m your pet.”

Ah, there’s some spirit, Jonathan thought, her jaw was tensing, fists unconsciously clenched in her lap.

”Rule four,” the girl forced herself to continue, “I will obey you immediately. Rule five. I won’t try to get help from anyone because you’ll kill them and it will be my fault.” Interestingly, that seemed to upset her more than anything. Taking a deep breath, she finished in a rush, “Rule six I’m supposedtocallyouDaddy.”

Leaning in, Jonathan ran his nose along the smooth slope of his new pet’s throat and breathed in under the soft skin of her ear. In his deepest, most soothing tone, he murmured, “Good girl.”

 

It was early morning, maybe 2 am, and Pine was sitting in the chair across from his bed. She was fast asleep, curled up in the mountain of pillows as if she was trying to disappear. He’d pulled the blankets back and settled her in, then holding up the ankle shackles from Roper’s unsettling “gift box.” But she didn’t do anything more than cringe when he fastened the leather locking cuff around one ankle and the other to the bedpost. This was at least a correct set of restraints, he thought, lined with sheepskin inside to keep from bruising her ankle more. When he straightened up, he looked at her coldly. “You will need to earn the right to wear clothing, you will earn it one item at a time.” Pine could tell she was uncomfortable with her nudity, but lowering her head, she nodded. He could almost feel her innate desperation to ask questions, to understand why this was happening, why her? Absently rubbing the back of his neck, Pine was struck again with the reality of his new life. This sweet girl’s existence- her Italian summer, her pursuit of her Ph.D, never seeing her- aunt, was it? again- was all brutally sidelined simply because she'd shaken his hand. Because Roper's gang of monsters noticed his interest in her. And now it was his responsibility to keep her alive, and the only way to do that was to mold her into his pet. 

"Too late for blame, you fool," he murmured, so low that it barely held on the breeze flowing off the ocean and into his room, "you will do whatever it takes. And so will she."

 

 

(Your POV)

It took a moment to realize you weren't in your bed when you woke the next morning. The tangy scent of the ocean was the same, light chatter and laughter in the distance, but the second you moved your leg it all came back. Sitting up abruptly, you looked down at the leather cuff on your bruised ankle, chaining you to the bed. Jonathan Pine's bed, you remembered. Your wrists and ankles were littered with cuts and bruises, more on your shoulders and back from being held in that crate. Looking to your left, there was a glass of water and two pills, along with a note that simply read, "Take these." They looked like Ibupropin, but regardless of what they were, you'd still have to take them so better to follow instructions. For now. Swallowing the pills down, your eyes narrowed. You looked like a pushover, you knew that. But you weren't. You got what you wanted, sometimes around an obstacle, sometimes right over it. But right now was the time to watch and listen. There had to be someone on this island who could help you.

You stiffened at the sound of the door opening and closing and pulled the sheet up to cover your breasts. Pine walked into the room, sweaty in workout gear. He walked over while toeing off his running shoes and shedding his shirt. Looking over to see the empty water glass, he nodded. "Good girl." You hated how grateful you suddenly felt.

Prowling around the bed to you, Jonathan reminded you of something sleek- a cat maybe. No, you thought, more dangerous. A panther. A Jaguar, maybe? Or were those the same animal? You couldn’t remember. Flipping the covers back, he freed you from your shackles.

"Thank y-" you froze. Shit. No speaking until asked a direct question rule one- you chanted silently.

Pine's mouth curled slightly on one corner, and he nodded his head. "A good time, pet, to review your rules. What are they?"

You recited them again, almost mixing up rules four and five but quickly correcting yourself. He simply nodded and held out a hand, pulling you from the bed. Jonathan looked at you sternly when you tried to pull the sheet from the bed to cover yourself, and you miserably dropped it. 

"It seems we need another rule. Rule seven: you will never hide yourself from me. Your body is mine to own and I decide when it is covered. Do you understand?"

Your heart thudded at his frigid tone and you nodded quickly. "Yes, I understand." This was apparently incorrect because his handsome face darkened as if a cloud passed over it.

"What do you call me, little girl?" Your wide eyes must make you look like a deer in the headlights like your Auntie Caroline said. You were desperately going through the rules- 

"Daddy!" you blurted, "Yes, Daddy, I understand."

And again, that shameful little shiver when Jonathan purred, "Good girl."

He pulled you into the huge shower that faced out onto the ocean- there was a waist-high wall dividing this part of the bathroom from the deck outdoors when the big glass slider was open, and with a small smile, Pine did so. It felt like being right on the beach to bathe, which was alternately gorgeous and alarming. Settling you under the spray of one of the shower heads, the man who now owned you lathered his hands with something that smelled like honey and rosemary. Then, he put those big hands on you. Smoothing over your shoulders, rubbing your stiff neck for a moment before trailing down your arms and back up along your waist and ribs. When he reached your breasts, your arms went up involuntarily and his hands tightened on you. Dropping your hands, you closed your eyes and tried to watch your breathing. You could feel your chest begin to hitch and you concentrated on the feel of him behind you. Jonathon Pine was marble-hard, both his arms and chest, and also that… part. And he was hot- heat radiating from him against your back, feeling surprisingly comforting as he slowly worked up another lather of soap in his hands.

“Oh! W-” His hands landed directly on your breasts, smoothing the suds on your skin and fingertips circling your nipples, his calloused fingers were rasping against the sensitive skin and you shuddered.

“I will not discipline you for that outburst Pet,” he leaned his head down to speak into your ear, putting his cock directly against the small of your back, “but you will learn to control yourself or I will be required to punish you. And you will not enjoy your punishment. But you will never forget again.”

To your humiliation, your nipples were eagerly hardening against his fingers, stroking and plucking at them delicately, Pine learning by your response how to hard to play with them, when to twist or stroke to make you shudder against him. As your head dropped back against his collarbone, he made a pleased-sounding grunt and then bent slightly to stroke the soap against your back and then your ass. This time, you gritted your teeth. No noise. You didn’t know what this beautiful, terrifying man considered punishment but you were quite sure it would be awful. And painful.

 

 

(Pine’s POV)

God, this sweet girl’s ass… Jonathan stopped himself from groaning as his hands spread over the silky skin on her bottom, experimentally squeezing her cheeks and enjoying her alarmed clenching of muscle. His long fingers were already exploring the swelling lips of her pussy, enjoying her strangled little squeak. After stroking along them for a moment, he forced himself to finish by washing down her legs and feet, wincing at the bruising at her ankles again. But Pine couldn’t resist a return trip to her wet center, over the twitching muscles of her stomach and cupping her breasts again. He could feel her stiffen in alarm, then go slightly slack against his chest. After a leisurely tour around those lovely globes again, he spoke into her ear. “My turn, Pet.”

The feeling of her small hands on his skin was more intense than he’d expected. He’d forgotten how long it had been since a woman touched him, and his new pet’s warm hands were cautiously moving along him, tracing muscles and trailing fingers up his spine and over his tight abdominals. Pine smothered a smile, doubting the girl was aware of just how much exploration was happening here. She carefully avoided his ass and nervously knelt to soap his legs, springing back up as quickly as she dared.

Handing her the soap again, Jonathan looked into her eyes. “You missed a spot or two.” He enjoyed the sweep of pink that spread up her breasts, her neck and then onto her cheeks, but the girl nodded and carefully reached around to run her hands over his ass. Pine continued to stare, enjoying the thick fan of her lashes and that delicious, tell-tale flush of hers. When her hands slowed and she nervously crossed her arms, he put one finger under her chin and lifted it. “My cock. Stroke it.”

 

 

(Your POV)

“My cock. Stroke it.”

Oh, sweet baby Jesus, he didn’t mean that, right? You were trying not to panic but the number of those you’d held in your hands- much less your mouth- was not high and you were terrified of doing something wrong. Oh, god- if you hurt his cock, he would probably just kill you right there, wouldn’t he? The blood could just go down the drain and no one would know-

“Pet…” his voice was lower, deadly, “what is rule four?”

“It’s- I-” you started over, “Rule four is to obey you immediately.”

Pine placed one hand against the shower wall over your shoulder, and then his other hand opposite, caging you between them as he leaned into you. “And are you doing that?”

“I- Yes, Daddy!” You quickly put your hands on his cock, fingers carefully wrapping around him. He was even hotter here, and heavy. It was so strange how soft flesh could turn into something that felt like marble. His cock was definitely bigger than the ones you’d seen before. Definitely longer.

“Stroke it,” his mouth was next to your ear, and it made you shiver a bit, but you obeyed him, squeezing his shaft gently and running your hands from root to tip and back again. “Cup my sac in your other hand,” his lips were moving along your neck with this instruction, and you obeyed, feeling the weight of them and how they were drawn up against him. You’d never touched a man’s scrotum before, but he was definitely enjoying it, based on how his hips were moving. “Mmmm…” he purred, “just like that, darling. Keep going.” Soon after, there was a sudden exhalation of breath and he spilled over your hands, slick and sticky.

 

 

(Pine’s POV)

God- he’d never come that quickly before- not since he was an idiot teenager! But this shy little thing’s hands were perfection, squeezing and stroking along him so well. Forcing himself to concentrate, he washed her belly clean of him and pulled her out of the shower, drying her carefully.

“Lie down on the bed, pet.”

She stopped halfway into the bedroom, stiff as a board, but she didn't turn to look at him.

"You heard me."

Nodding, his girl walked as slowly as she dared to the bed, sheets were strewn and pillows tossed around from their restless night. Sitting gingerly on the very edge of the mattress, she tucked her shaking hands between her knees.

"Lay back, darling," Pine would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this, and he forced the self-disgust away. Settling on his side, head propped on his hand, he ran his fingers along her body, swirling patterns into her skin and teasing her nipples into peaks again. He found himself wanting to know what kind of sexual experience she'd had. He wanted to be the first to show her new ways to come. But he suspected her experience was limited, and with an internal grin, he doubted it included this...

"Oh! God- I mean Daddy, I mean I'm s-sorry rule one-" The sweet girl's chest was heaving and her eyes were wide and frightened, alarmed enough to look directly into his.

Jonathan was already wedged firmly between her thighs, enjoying her glistening lips and spreading them lightly with two fingers. "You broke a rule, Pet." His voice was deep and strangely greedy and she opened her mouth to plead with him and then shut it again with a snap. "You know your rules, darling," he scolded mildly. He put his mouth back to the top of her wet center where he'd placed it as she'd blurted out her "Oh, Gods" and apologies, and his agile tongue teased her little clitoris loose from its flesh shelter. Pine was suddenly desperate to slide his fingers inside her, tease her and feel how tight she was, but he forced himself to concentrate on what was turning into a delightfully juicy kitty. "So wet..." he gloated, "it makes me think this is not a punishment at all." Her hands were moving restlessly over the sheets, and Jonathan took both and wrapped them around the wrought iron bar on the headboard. "Do not move your hands from here. Do you understand?"

Her "Yes!" was in an entertainingly high-pitched voice, and Pine bent to his work again. Her thighs were shaking, so he wrapped his arms around them and shoved his wide shoulders in, spreading her wider. He was alternating long strokes with the flat of his tongue with swirling the tip of it along her clit and the entrance to her channel, occasionally dipping inside the spot he wanted to enter with a cock that was already stiff and aching again. Rubbing it absently against the sheets, he continued to torment the writhing girl under him, enjoying the yelps when he'd teasingly nipped along her swollen lips and then carefully, carefully held her swollen little pearl between his sharp white teeth and grinned at her alarmed face. Circling the tip of his tongue against it again, Pine listened carefully to her breathing and how her hands were tightening on the bar where he'd placed them. "Oh..." it was a strangled whisper, she was desperately trying to obey him and Jonathan almost took pity on her. Almost. "Wh-?" His new pet just bit off her plea as he pulled his lips away from her clit, stopping the girl's orgasm just as it was about to wash luxuriously over her.

Wiping his wet chin along the smooth skin of her thigh, Jonathan sat up, expressionless again. "That is your punishment. Bad girls do not get to come." Standing up, he strolled back into the bathroom, well aware she was still frozen where he'd placed her.

 


	4. So Little Time, So Much To Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jonathan begins training you.

 

Splashing cold water over his face, Jonathan irritably willed his rebellious cock to stand down. Diving into that tasty creature... she was delicious, even trying to stifle all those pretty little moans. "Note to self," he murmured, "rule eight: when coming she is allowed to make all the noise she likes." Bracing his hands on the vanity, he examined his reflection. _No time..._ He knew Roper, or more likely, that vile little troll Corky would be knocking on his door soon if he didn't show off the girl like the little show pony his new boss expected. He drew in a deep breath. 

Keep her alive.

 

(Your POV)

You sat up in the bed, hands shaking, thighs rubbing together and staring at your keeper's unfairly broad back. You just gaped, mouth open and probably looking like a complete idiot. Did you just... Jesus Christ, you were upset because the guy who bought you or kidnapped you or something didn't make you come? What the hell was wrong with you? How could you possibly be turned on by someone who is making you call him Daddy? Your head snapped back up as he walked out of the bathroom again. Pine looked you over, his expression neutral so you tightened up, waiting for a clue on what would happen next.

"Stand up." Swallowing a groan, you did as you were told, wishing you could cover yourself with a pillow. A hand towel. A tissue- anything. But he continued to examine you, head to toes. "Lovely," Jonathan murmured, as if to himself. Your mouth was open to thank him and you snapped it shut. Not a direct question, rule one. He'd caught the motion though, and a corner of his mouth turned up. He was much less terrifying, even with a hint of a smile, and you relaxed a bit. "Good girl," he approved, "you remembered your rules. For that, I will allow you knickers. Unfortunately, yours have not arrived, so you will make do with mine for this morning. You nodded gratefully and slipped on a pair of his black boxer briefs as he donned a pair as well, then black jeans and a blue shirt. 

This was all done in silence, and some part of you was ready to shriek and just babble a string of nonsense. You did that when you were nervous, and pair that with terrified, the quiet was scraping your nerves raw. There was no clinks of cutlery on china, no cheerful calls from the other servers, no music drifting up from the guitarist who played in the club down the street. Just the faint sound of the surf coming through the open windows. 

"Come. You need to eat." You obediently followed Pine into the kitchen. Maybe he would let you ask questions during breakfast. If you could make him see you as a human being- maybe he would change his mind and let you go... He was already laying out a plate of muffins and fresh juice. He gave you another one of those unnerving once-overs before pulling out a chair for you. He was still silent, deftly making scrambled eggs and sliding them onto your plate. 

'Thank god he doesn't like them over-easy,' you thought, 'since I'm not getting a choice. Still, you realized you hadn't eaten since a quick salad the night before last, and you tried to thank him with an awkward smile. Still, it was so quiet in the cottage that you nearly fell off your chair when there was a sharp rap on the door.

Jonathan fixed those blazing eyes on you. "Do not move." Looking from the entry to the kitchen, he noticed you would be in full view when he opened the door. "You may cross your arms over those delightful breasts. But head up, posture straight." He smiled slightly as you looked at him in horror, but you hastily brought up your arms to cover yourself as he opened the door to reveal one of the interested-looking goons from last night- he might be the one who dropped his corner of the box you were carried in as a "present." Currently, the goon was staring at you while handing a pile of shopping bags to Jonathan. 

"These just arrived," the goon said, winking at you, which made you want to throw those scrambled eggs back up. Pine had warned you that if he didn't like you, Roper would give you to his men. Your eyes narrowed but you remembered to keep your head up. God only knows how Jonathan would punish you for that.

"See something you like?" Pine said idly, gathering the rest of the bags on one big fist.

Roper's goon grinned, "She's a pretty one, we're all hoping you'll share."

A small, strangled gasp escaped from between your clenched teeth, but Pine didn't seem to notice. He was staring fixedly at the grinning bastard who'd just suggested "sharing" you like you were a toy. "If you look at her like that again, I'll cut your fucking eyes out." He said it in the same pleasant, matter-of-fact tone he'd used when telling you to come to breakfast, and that terrified you more than if he'd shouted. The goon's grin faded and he glared to Pine before leaving. Turning around with two handfuls of bags, he met your furious gaze. “Put down your hands,” Jonathan said calmly, “rule seven.” Nodding reluctantly, you did as you were told. He noticed you’d lost your appetite and told you to take the plates to the sink.

 

(Pine’s POV)

Watching her rinse off the plates was tempting enough, but when she bent to put them in the little dishwasher her ass- so sweetly encased in his boxers- was torture. He fought a sudden urge to bite it- so ripe. He was actually pleased that his new pet was clearly furious at being forced to sit topless in front of Roper’s thug. Her arms had covered her as well as a bra would have, but he knew it was the _feeling_ of being topless that would upset her. She was clearly a shy one about her body. That would change. 

“Come here, little one.”

He smiled slightly as she stiffened, shutting the dishwasher with a snap. When she turned, he folded his arms across his chest. She was walking to him as slowly as she dared. “You’re pouting, and not attempting to hide it. It is not acceptable.” The girl was looking up at him, her eyes wide with an appeal. He knew she was dying to speak, however, learning patience and holding her tongue would be good for her. But Jonathan unbent enough to smooth her hair back, letting a strand slip through his fingers. “You are embarrassed because you felt exposed to the eyes of that man.” She nodded furiously, perhaps thinking this was an opening to a conversation. His hand clenched suddenly in her hair, and the girl stilled, like a rabbit, waiting to see which way the wind was blowing. “You are my pet, darling. I own you,” he leaned close, enjoying her utter quiet, “and if I wished to have you walk through Roper’s mansion in the middle of a dinner party stark naked, you will do it.” Running his hand up her side, Pine cupped her breast, thumb sweeping back and forth over her nipple. “So lovely, but lacking in discipline. This is new to you, I know. I am not a cruel daddy. But I require your obedience, and I require it now… He paused for a moment. What could he say that could possibly help her understand without terrifying her further?

”Should I have taken you as my pet after meeting at a club, perhaps, I would take my time with you. Ease you into being your Daddy. We would have had discussions about soft and hard limits- do you understand those terms, darling?” 

Her lips parted slightly, thinking. “Yes, I’ve heard them before, like in movies?”

Jonathan concealed an eye roll. More _50 Shades Of Grey_ shite, he was certain. Still... “Do you know what safe words are used for?” 

The girl was actually gnawing on her lower lip with anxiety. “For stop and slow down?”

Pine raised a brow. Perhaps this girl wasn’t as virginal as he thought... “Have you ever played before, darling?” His hands were sliding over her hips and she seemed to focus on that before he gave her a brisk shake. “Answer me. And remember to call me Daddy. You have forgotten twice and it merits discipline.” This time the blood drained from her face, leaving her sheet-white and shaking. 

“I’m s- sorry, Daddy. I don’t think I understand the question. Please don’t punish-“

”Hush.” He didn’t yell, Pine never yelled and rarely even raised his voice. But his unit in Her Majesty’s Army, then his employees as night manager knew when he was displeased. As did his new pet, her lips pressed together to keep from crying. “This is the time to answer my questions, not make excuses. No one else...” Jonathan pulled back with an effort. His fear for her was making him angry. “No one else, little girl, will give a damn if you ‘forgot’ or not. They will punish you, or they will sell you. If you wish to stay with me, you must please me. You will please me by following my rules. You are a very intelligent girl, I know you are capable of this.”

Interestingly, it was his matter-of-fact statement about her intelligence that seemed to calm her, and she tried to answer. “I haven’t, uh, played, Daddy. Not like I think you mean. I just read the _50 Shades_ -”

“That’s enough, darling, very good,” Jonathan interrupted. “Our play will be different. You may utter a safe word for stop- but I expect it to never be used unless you are in true pain, or something has gone very wrong. If you attempt to avoid something uncomfortable or perhaps frightening by using it, I will take the option away from you. Do you understand?”

“Yes… uh, Daddy.” Her eyes were wide with alarm again, but she nodded obediently, and Pine's cock begin to swell again.

Stepping back and eyeing her critically, he said, “I believe your lapses in forgetting your rules are from a lack of discipline and control. Every good girl needs firm discipline to guide her, so….”

 

(Your POV)

Which is how you found yourself wobbling in 4-inch heels, Jonathan’s boxer briefs and nothing else, pacing the room. Well, one other thing: a set of ankle shackles with a chain measured to exactly 18 inches, which was the length you were allowed to step while you repeated the rules, over and over. And that sadistic monster added two more!

“Rule eight: unless instructed otherwise, you must not hide any of your whimpers and noises while coming.” He’d enjoyed how you’d blushed fire engine red at that. “Rule nine: since you’re such a polite little thing, you may say ‘please,’ and ‘thank you.’ You will also respond to any request from me with ‘Yes, Daddy.’”

Pine had waited with a sort of terrible good humor until you nodded and whispered, “Yes, Daddy.”

And then this damn chain! He’d bent down to gently strap the cuffs on your ankles, making sure they weren’t too tight, and even slipped the beautiful black pumps on you like a Prince Charming. You snorted internally. Prince Charming. If Prince Charming kidnapped women and turned them into sex slaves. It had been an hour, and your legs were aching from the heels and you’d repeated those rules a thousand times. Pine was sitting in a big, comfortable wingback chair and reading a book. He lifted his eyes every now and then to say, “Again.”

And you would. “Rule one: I will not speak unless asked a direct question. Rule two..."

Then, he looked at you again with the slightest bit of mischief in those Mediterranean blue eyes. "Now in Italian."

You almost stumbled in those sky-high heels while trying to translate, the short chain halting you for a minute. "Prima regola: non parlerò se non faccio una domanda diretta. Regola due..." You found ways to tighten your ass that kept you steadier on the heels and took some of the pressure off the trembling muscles in your legs. But you hated Jonathan Pine, you hated him!

"Now in Arabic."

You sniffed and tried again. "Alqaeidat al'uwlaa: ln 'atakalam 'illa 'iidha turh sual mubashir. alqaeidat alththania ..."

This miserable exercise continued until he'd made you repeat his rules in every language you spoke, and you realized it was also a test of sorts. Your shoulders were on fire from keeping the posture he demanded, your legs were shaking hard enough that the heels on your pumps were tapping together. Finally, _finally,_ he closed his book. “Good girl.” Standing, he held out his hand, and you numbly took it, wondering what would be next.

Fortunately, next included a hot bath, which felt wonderful. You drew your knees up and wrapped your arms around them, resting your head. His hand was stroking through your hair, and you were embarrassed by the little noise you made. You felt the sponge in his other hand, and your fearsome new daddy began to run it gently over your skin. You were acutely aware of your breathing, the soft sound of the soap on your skin, the splash of the water. Jonathan was so close the warmth of his skin comforted you. When his hands rose to cup and cradle your breasts, the hitch in your breath made him grin, you could feel his teeth against your cheek. “Are you my good girl?” His whisper set your heart pounding again.

”Yes, Daddy.” 

“Your Daddy will take care of you, Pet. Just be my sweet girl.” Jonathan pulled you out of the tub and dried you slowly, carefully, running the soft towel over your belly and between your soft thighs, almost lightly buffing your center. To your shock, you could feel your pussy swelling and you shifted anxiously. A hand slapped hard against your ass.

”AH!”

This earned you a slap on the other cheek. “Did I give you permission to move?”

You swallowed against your dry throat. “No, Daddy.”

Pine’s mouth moved along your jaw, then he bit your ear lightly. “Go sit on the bed.”

”Yes...” it took you a moment, “Daddy.”

 

The bedroom was cool, shadowed from the afternoon sun, and the closer you came to the bed, the faster your heart pounded. It was a huge, beautiful expanse of white Egyptian cotton and silk blankets. The headboard was an elaborate wrought iron and all you could see were places he could tie you to it. When you sat down, Pine swung your legs up, putting your back against the pillows.

”Spread your legs.” 

He was standing in front of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he looked at you, expecting obedience.

 

(Pine’s POV) 

She had been such a good girl during her posture discipline. When she'd figured out how to walk properly to become steadier, it had put her ass into a beautiful, taut silhouette. breasts arched and very distracting. He didn't remember a word of the book he'd been reading, but my god- she was lovely- repeating her rules in that sweet, tremulous voice. He would instruct her to not let anyone here know she spoke other languages- and so many! This could be very helpful in keeping her alive. 

Keep her alive.

Mouth tightening, Pine discarded his shirt and then his jeans and boxers, nude and putting one knee on the bed to crawl toward her. He could see her instinctively try to move back, but the pillows he'd settled her into prevented any movement. She'd tried to obey his order to spread her legs, but it was a timid parting of the knees. Slipping his palms between her thighs, Jonathan spread them wider, enjoying the girl's gasp. He leaned in and inhaled, enjoying the warmth and the slick beginning to make her center glisten. So responsive! Even kidnapped and frightened, this lovely thing was so reactive to everything he did to her. It made his guilt lessen slightly. He could make this good for her, pleasurable. Glancing up at her face, he was not surprised to see her hands covering her eyes. Leaning up, he pulled them from her face and frowned. "You will watch everything, do you understand?"

At her soft "Yes, Daddy," he put her hands to the headboard.

"Hold onto the rail here. Do not take your hands away."

Again, "Yes, Daddy," in that lilting voice of hers, getting a bit more breathy.

Running his raspy chin along her thigh, Jonathan enjoyed her shiver. He hadn't shaved yet and he could feel the goosebumps coming up on the path of his whiskers. "Such a lovely pet," he soothed, "so sensitive. Daddy's going to put his mouth on you now, and you will watch me. And you will not move. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dadd- OH!" His mouth was on her and it was... almost feral. Her pussy was blazingly hot and the taste of this girl was sweet as he'd remembered. It has been a long time since he'd had his mouth on a woman. His tongue sharpened to a point and dipped into her channel, enjoying the tightening of her thighs before she remembered and tried to open them again. 

Twisting his wrist, Jonathan slid one finger inside her and felt his cock throb violently. The inside of her was like a hummingbird- muscles fluttering and clenching, the heat of her cradling his finger tightly. “Shhh…” he managed, “you need to relax. Something larger than a finger is going inside you, and you must be ready for Daddy.” She whimpered a bit at that and he placed his whole mouth over her clitoris in the most carnal of kisses, sliding his finger in and out while she was distracted, then adding another. Balancing on his elbows, Pine put his other palm on her stomach, enjoying the feeling of her muscles tense from the outside. This time, he was deliberately crude. “Your Daddy’s cock feels ready to split from its skin, darling. It’s so eager to be inside you. You’re so slick and wet for me, can you feel it?”

When it seemed like she was too overwhelmed to answer him, he gave an especially hard thrust with his fingers. “Ow! Yes, Daddy!” Running his calloused fingertips over the quivering silk of her inner walls, he found a couple of spots that when he pressed or stroked, she’d arch her back and gasp, swirl along another spot and she’d moan. At right at the top of her, by her cervix, was a lovely little pocket where he could just spread with a finger and…

Pine was shocked to realize he was saying this out loud, and that her knuckles were white with her desperation to keep them on the rail and obey him. But he could see the effect of his voice on her- her breasts glistening with sweat and eyes glassy.

“I’m going to fuck you now, pet. Spread your legs wide for Daddy.”

 

(Your POV)

“I’m going to fuck you now, pet. Spread your legs wide for Daddy.”

You stiffened again, you couldn’t help it, 

But when he drew back, his beautiful eyes were polar blue again and you tried to force yourself to relax. “Yes, Daddy,” you breathed, and you were confused about why you were feeling… eager? For this.

He was hovering over you, the soft light from the windows gleaming over his chest- all hard muscle and smooth skin. His body was like a weapon, firm and rippling muscle, an economy of movement and a sense of terrifying, coiled energy that was ready to explode. He was scary. He was beautiful. And he’d made you so wet. He was between your thighs, and you could feel that thick part of him heavy against your leg. His hands were moving, stroking along your skin and dipping in and out of your center again to trace wet trails on your clitoris and his cock. He was different now- no longer silent but whispering all this beautiful filth to you. Your daddy’s voice was sonorous and exquisite, when he was turned on it had a growl to it that made you shiver. But it made you want him to keep talking because he felt safer then. You could tell he wanted you, that you aroused him and not just like something he owned.

That you were desirable.

The thought was so overwhelming that you moaned. “Please, Daddy…”

Jonathan stilled for a moment and you wondered if you’d done something wrong, and then those hard, knowing fingers were back, stroking in and out of you. “Such a good girl,” he purred, “say it again, Pet.”

“Uh…” you felt clumsy and confused, but you could feel yourself tighten against his fingers inside of you again and you repeated it, “Please, Daddy? Please?”

He made a sudden move that made you stifle a shriek, but then he was over you, those sinuous hips of his rotating gently as he put the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing in and out, in and out as you felt the slight ‘pop!’ of the bulbous tip popping through and back out of your channel before sliding in halfway, making your back arch. Your hands almost flew off the rail where Pine placed them, but he put his hand over yours and held them there, wrapping his long fingers around your wrists. God, you felt so full- full almost to bursting and you knew he wasn’t all the way in yet. He was holding still inside you, it took some effort based on the tight lines around his mouth but you were so grateful. He was a lot- there was a lot of him and it didn’t seem like there was room to breathe with him in you. After a moment, he was sliding in and out again, a bit more each time until you were getting impatient with _his_ patience. “Aren’t you the sweetest surprise, darling?” His voice was hoarse now, but it felt like another set of fingers running along your skin. “Such a tight, silky little thing. I can feel my cock splitting you wide. But I think you’re enjoying it, aren’t you? Hmmm, Pet?”

It took you a minute to remember how to make your lips form words again, but you managed, “Yes, Daddy.”

He chuckled, deep and pleased. “Such a good girl.” Jonathan thrust hard, all the way to the top of you and a shriek ripped from your throat and you gasped, “Rule eight: unless instructed otherwise, I must not hide any of my whimpers and noises while coming.”

Pine was laughing then, thrusting against the resistance of your channel and making you open for him, the smooth, blunt head of his cock stroking along parts of you inside that you’d never felt, going deeper than you thought there should be room to go. But it felt so good- you forgot about being a slave or him owning you and just felt the heat and weight of him shoving greedily in and out. And when it seemed like he couldn’t get any bigger, his cock swelled more and Jonathan reached between you to stroke at your clit with his thumb, circular motions that got firmer and firmer. Putting his mouth to your ear, he hissed, “You will never come without your Daddy’s permission. And I give it to you now, Pet. Come with me. Now.”

And you did. Just like a pet or a captive or whatever he thought you were but you didn’t care- it felt so good, overwhelming like he was inside all of you and when his swelling cock burst, the heat went everywhere, making you come and feeling like you were on fire all the way to your fingertips.

You were both panting, he was heavy on top of you but it was kind of comforting, like he was blocking everything else away. Then, Jonathan stiffened and pulled out, ignoring your pained gasp and stood. You could feel his come sliding from you into an embarrassing puddle on the sheet and you sat up, wincing at the pressure on your pelvis.

Then he just turned and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door without another word.

 

 

 

"Prima regola: non parlerò se non faccio una domanda diretta. Regola due ..." Italian for: "Rule one: I will not speak unless asked a direct question. Rule two..."

"Alqaeidat al'uwlaa: ln 'atakalam 'illa 'iidha turh sual mubashir. alqaeidat alththania ..." Arabic for: "Rule one: I will not speak unless asked a direct question. Rule two..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SUCK: I forgot to thank the lovely misreall for allowing me to borrow her "ankle shackles discipline" exercise from her immortal trilogy about Incubus Loki. If you have not read it, leave this page and go there immediately. It starts with "A Hex of Infinite Binding." https://archiveofourown.org/works/16346738
> 
>  
> 
> Remember that Jonathan has a small window of opportunity to create the dutiful, cowed little Pet that Roper is expecting. He isn't innately cruel, but yeah, this predicament is sparking emotions in him that he wasn't aware of.


	5. An Awkward Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jonathan teaches you that his magnificent shaft is not the only thing you can ride. Also, lunch and three questions.

 

(Pine's POV)

Pine found himself once again leaning on the bathroom counter after splashing cold water on his face, trying to remind himself that this was right. To keep her alive. But he hadn’t come that hard in… thinking back over a rather wide variety of experiences, he was hard-pressed to come up with many that topped it. Should he be taking this much pleasure in her captivity? All her instructions, the discipline in ankle shackles... it all came back so easily, even though it had been years since he'd played. Shaking the water off his face, Pine realized he'd just yanked himself free from that girl and simply left her. 'You are terrible at this,' he glared at himself in the mirror as he wet a washcloth with warm water and pulled a towel off the shelf.

As Pine expected, the girl was still sitting up, holding the sheet to her chest and tears trickling down that pretty face. He took a deep breath and felt his position as "Daddy" click effortlessly into place. "Poor darling," he soothed, "Daddy will make you feel better. Lie back now, be a good girl." Trying to scrub the tears off her cheeks, she nodded, every muscle tensed in a way that was disappointing, Pine thought. She'd been so utterly undone after he'd made her come. Gently running the cloth down her stomach, over her inner thighs and then as she gasped, over her wet center. A muscle ticked in his jaw when the cloth came back smeared with a bit of blood. He should have been more careful, he'd not been inside her before and he should have taken more time to learn about the limits of her tender kitty. Softly wiping her dry, Jonathan gave her a kind smile. "Are you sore?" When she lowered her head and nodded, he tilted her chin back up. "Ah, ah- what is rule one?"

"I will speak when asked a direct question," she whispered, "a little. Sore, I mean."

"Good girl," Jonathan approved, giving her a kiss on the forehead. It occurred to him then that he hadn't kissed her since opening that box and finding her huddled and tear-stained inside. Pushing the thought away, he rose. "I have something for that." Once he’d returned with something for her somewhat abused center, Jonathan made her spread her legs again- to the girl’s extreme embarrassment- and smoothed the cream over the tender skin, drawing a gasp when one finger slipped inside her channel. “Better,” he said, giving her an approving smile as if she’d accomplished something more taxing than keeping her legs open for him, but she still gave a small smile back. “Rest here for a moment, little one. I’ll make you some lunch." Pausing at the door, he pointed to a pretty white sundress and lace undies. "You have earned the privilege of wearing clothing."

Putting together some olives, cheeses, crusty bread and a handful of perfect figs he’d been ripening on his kitchen windowsill, Pine thought over how much time Roper would give him before seeing his “gift” again. He would prefer another day to work with her, but he suspected he’d get the royal command to bring the girl to dinner tonight. Mouth tightening, he pushed down the guilt of having intercourse so soon. But it will look better if she sat down with a gasp at the dinner table. Then, completely disgusted with himself, Jonathan put the meal on a tray and took it to the pretty tiled terrace leading out from the french doors to the bedroom. “Darling,” he called just a little louder than usual, “come out here.” As he expected, a couple of the guards strolling along the perimeter of the island looked up to see his pet emerging from the bedroom. The white dress was pretty, highlighting that she had just enough of a tan to brighten her eyes and make her skin glow. "You look lovely, Pet," Jonathan approved.

Nodding, the girl said, "Thank you, uh, Daddy." There was a vaguely lewd chuckle from the men as they passed by, but Pine's steady gaze made them walk just a bit faster.

“Come, sit on my lap,” he patted one long thigh and she smiled uneasily as she did as she was told. As she settled onto his legs, Pine leaned in to run his nose along her jawline. “Such a good girl.” This was whispered into her ear, and he grinned when she shivered in response. Lifting a small, fragrant bit of cheese to her lips, he growled slightly when she tried to take it. “No. Open your mouth, Pet.” With a small sigh, she obeyed, and they spent a leisurely half hour on the terrace, Pine’s new “gift” on his lap and eating lunch by his hand.

Corky was leaning by the pool, idliy examining the wet ass of one of Roper’s younger male guests who was emerging from the water. Cocking his head, he could hear some of the men laughing in an ugly, low tone. “Sitting on his fucking lap and he’s hand-feeding her,” chortled one, “that didn’t take long.” Corky smiled, eyes narrowed. This, along with the gossip from the maid that the girl had been stumbling across the cottage in ankle shackles this morning was highly entertaining. 

His smirk faded as he looked down the beach to the secluded cottage where Pine was apparently training his new pet. This didn’t change anything. Pine was “off” somehow. And he would get to the bottom of it. Sooner than later.

 

(Your POV)

Sitting on Pine’s lap was uncomfortable and awkward. Every time you tried to shift to take some pressure off your sore and throbbing center, it seemed to put your ass squarely on his dick, if his hiss of indrawn breath meant anything. You felt much better at least having underwear and a dress on, though the lack of a bra meant the top was displaying more of you than usual, and when the cool breeze swept across the terrace, your traitorous nipples hardened.

“Open, Pet.” Jonathan’s long fingers were back with a tasty bite of brioche bread with a bit of goat cheese, and as you opened your mouth obediently, you almost choked as his other hand smoothed lightly across your nipples, making them quite visible through the sheer cloth. “Sorry, darling,” he soothed, offering you a glass of wine as you nearly coughed the food back up. “Your breasts are quite tempting, I fear.” Was this… were you supposed to say ‘thank you’ for that comment? You were in hell- you had never been a chatterbox, but for Christ's sake, you loved long conversations, asking questions and learning something new. This careful silence was tortuous.

You opened your mouth to say “Thank you, Daddy-” but a savory olive found it’s way between your lips instead. Taking another gulp of the offered wine, you noticed he was pouring a second glass, taking a drink while eyeing you thoughtfully.

"This silence is difficult for you, darling."

"Yes, Daddy! I-"

"That was not a direct question." Pine smothered a smile as you groaned in frustration. "Have another sip, Pet." 

You did, and you could begin to feel the wine sink into your anxiety, smothering it with a comfortable blanket. It was still there, just… muffled. You squeaked when his hands went to your hips, lifting you easily and turning you to face him, straddling one long thigh, your dress pulled up a bit. You instinctively put your hands on his shoulders, steadying yourself. It was the first time you’d touched him without instruction, but rather than scolding you, Jonathan looked pleased.

“You’re trying very hard to be a good girl, I know this, darling. As a reward, I will allow you to ask me three questions.” He handed you his wine glass- yours being empty- and you took a fortifying gulp before giving it back.

What to ask? You needed to get as much information as possible before Rule One came back into effect. Taking a deep breath, you started with, “Who are you? I mean, not your name, but why are you here, with Mr. Roper?” His dark brows drew together, and your eyes widened. Did you just end the Q and A before it started?

His hands slid to your waist, rocking you slightly. The man’s blasted legs were ridiculously long, and you had to point your toes to touch the tile to steady yourself. “I’m from a London financial institution. I am here to assist Richard in equities and bond transfers.” You knew you had no poker face, and you must have looked openly skeptical. Pouring you another glass of wine, Jonathan nodded to you to continue.

“H- have you bought a sla- a person- I mean, have you bought a pet before?” There was no way to gracefully ask the man who claimed to own you if this was a regular occurrence.

Oddly, this question amused him. “I have had pets before, I have been a daddy. This is the first time I have been gifted with one.” His hands were moving you back and forth a bit, your feet swinging. You could feel the rough cloth of his jeans through the thin cotton undies.

The wine, the sun and his maddening pattern rubbing your sensitive bits against him made it harder to think. You only had one question left and so many things you were desperate to ask. But the most obvious burst out before you could stop it. “What’s going to happen to me? You couldn’t keep me as a pet forever- what will-”

“Hush.” Pine’s voice hadn’t raised, but the warning was clear. He was still moving you back and forth- you could feel the muscles in his thigh bunch and flex against your center. “The only thing you need to know, Pet, is if you obey me and follow the rules, I will take care of you and keep you safe. I had not intended to take a-” he was hesitating, weighing his words, you could tell. “-A pet. I did not select you, but Roper saw my interest and had you taken as a gift for me. This does not have to be a terrible thing. I think you will find I can make your life very satisfying…” Another pull of your hips up and down his hard thigh, and you sucked in a gasp. What was he doing? Oh, god- you looked down to see a wet streak on his dark jeans. From you. He was getting you wet riding his thigh. You were humping him. Like a crazed chihuahua. “Very pleasant…”

“Jon- Daddy, I-” Your hands were fisting his shirt at his shoulders, bunching the fabric as you tried to stay stable without gripping his leg with your thighs, an option that was becoming more appealing by the minute. His hands had slid to your ass, squeezing both globes and using them to push you faster. Your head dropped to his shoulder. What should you do? There were people on this beach! Oh, god... Pine had angled you so that your clit was rubbing against the denim fabric and it was too much, you were so sensitive and it's- "Oh, GOD," you choked, trying to get some control back over your lower half, but it was apparently just... carrying on without you.

"Good girl," the devil purred into your ear. He was definitely Satan because otherwise, this made no sense. You were coming on Jonathan Pine's long, muscled thigh and he was brazenly squeezing your bottom and he slid you back and forth. You didn't even know someone could come like this but you were about to and- "There's my sweet Pet. Come all over Daddy's leg. Soak me." His words were so shockingly filthy and you were so close that it tipped you into an orgasm that burned through your clit, your inner thighs, sparking against Jonathan's hands still tightly attached to your ass, making your back arch and you moaned. Embarrassingly loudly. And then another one, and another as your hips mindlessly worked against the rigid muscle of his thigh and he laughed, your evil new Daddy and kissed you on the mouth, stopping your gasps and whimpers. Your legs dangled limply for a moment, your head buried in the spot between Jonathan's neck and shoulder. You were taking in big gasps of air and shaking a little.

When you were calm again, Jonathan patted your bottom and helped you stand, smoothing down your dress. It was then that you remembered you were outdoors and god- please god, let no one have been walking by while you rubbed yourself into an orgasm. He leaned in close to whisper, "You are so very pretty when you come, Pet." His phone buzzed, and he walked across the room to pick it up, reading the text with a brief frown. "It seems we're dining with Roper tonight. Let's tidy you up."

You’d heard about Mr. Roper of course. He came into the restaurant where you worked- well, where you had worked- quite often when he was in residence in his palatial island home. The manager made it very clear that his party was always to be given the very best of service. Roper tipped well, but when his group lingered and drank, it became more and more unpleasant. That’s when Lorenzo, the 40-something manager would send the younger servers- including you- home and the older men would finish waiting on the group. You knew he was insanely rich and you’d seen a video on YouTube where he’d talked about his relief efforts in war-torn regions of the world. He seemed nice, kind even when he talked about saving the refugees. On camera. But the first time you’d put a plate down in front of him and looked up to see him staring at you… his eyes were a monster’s, wrapped up in a skin suit. Jonathan dressed you in a flowy, pale green dress with a plunging back, brushing your hair and speaking to you in a low, calm voice. “It’s too late to pretend this is a regular business dinner. Your arrival-” You shuddered, and the strokes of the brush slowed for a moment. “Your arrival last night made that clear to you.” His gaze met yours in the mirror. “But you must pretend it is just a business dinner, darling. Do you understand?”

You thought about the cruel, laughing faces last night. The guard who’d suggested that Jonathan “share” you as casually as requesting a stick of gum. Then you looked at the handsome man behind you and realized he really was the only thing keeping you alive. “Yes, Daddy,” you managed, “I understand.”

 

 


	6. The Moon Is Full

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you endure a miserable dinner and are rewarded with a moonlight swim.

 

It would be impossible to believe you were walking to your doom, you thought sourly. Certainly not based on the perfect roll of the Mediterranean along the white sand, or the rich firey red of the sunset. But as the lights began clicking on along the walkway, you were certain of it. Your formidable new daddy had a grip on your hand and as your steps grew slower and slower, he was pulling on your arm. Finally, Jonathan stopped at looked at you. His beautiful face was set in stern lines, but you were still more scared of that brightly-lit deck full of monsters than you were of him. You were beginning to wonder if the man could read your mind because Pine simply stared at you. Sternly. Once you began fidgeting anxiously, he leaned down, taking your chin in his hand. "The only person you need to fear tonight Pet, is me. Do you understand?" You managed to jerk your head in sort of a nod, but he continued to stare. 

"Oh! Uh, yes, Daddy?"

He kissed you on the forehead with an approving smile. "Very good. If anyone speaks to you, do not answer, look at me and I will give you leave to speak or stay silent. This will keep you out of trouble. Now come along, be Daddy's good girl." You felt comforted, slightly, anyway and you followed Pine up the stone stairs still gripping his hand. You ended up walking a half step behind him, tucked slightly behind his right shoulder when all the faces at the dinner table turned to look at you. Their expressions were greedy, some avid, a couple seemed indifferent and the only woman was looking off in the other direction, appearing ostentatiously bored.

“Ah, there you are, Pine.”

It was Mr. Roper, who’d looked at you tied up in the box the night before, who thought it “would be such fun to train you up.” Your hand holding Jonathan’s was sweaty and you wished you could wipe it on your dress, but he held it firmly.

“Evening Richard,” he replied easily, nodding to the rest of the table. He seated you, pushing your chair in and laying your napkin across your lap while everyone stared. After a moment conversation resumed, three of the men discussing a deep sea fishing trip while a little man named "Corky" was whispering with the blonde woman, eyes darting back to you every now and then. Jonathan placed one hand casually on your thigh and ate with the other, easily conversing about swordfish and bluefin. When a server tried to offer you wine, he turned your glass over and told them to bring you water. This earned another little giggle from the Corky guy, who wouldn't stop staring at you. Managing to swallow down a bite of the tortellini, you swirled your fork through the sauce, trying to make it look like you were eating. You pictured making yourself smaller and smaller- like you were invisible. You used to do that at home when mom and dad were drunk and screaming at each other. If they couldn't see you, they couldn't turn their fury on you. Maybe it would be the same here.

It seemed to work until dessert was served, and several of the men lit up those vile-smelling cigars. "So, Pine..." it was that horrid Corky, you knew he'd been waiting to pounce. "How is your sweet little thing? You've brought her to heel so soon?"

Jonathan's fingers tightened just slightly on your bare thigh, pushing up the skirt of your sundress a bit. "We're just getting to know each other, of course," he answered easily. "So, Richard- tomorrow, will we need to-"

"But she's so quiet!" interrupted Corky, "I don't think she's looked up once. Girl, what's your name?"

You were quite certain he knew your name, but his hateful little grin told you he was enjoying this. Looking at Jonathan nervously, you were actually grateful he'd told you not to answer any questions.

"I'm still deciding on one, it takes time to find just the right thing for a new little girl." he cut off the other man's questions, leaning in slightly to block Corky's view of you.

"Does she speak?" drawled Mr. Roper, absently puffing on his cigar. You couldn't quite look at him directly, you remembered his flat eyes and you didn't want to see inside them again. You were already quite clear based on the events of the past 48 hours that he was a monster.

Jonathan's smile was relaxed, pleasant. "Only to me. Training, you see." To your relief, no one addressed you directly again, though he easily handled another round of innuendo and increasingly personal questions until he finally shut them down. But when he finally rose, pulling you with him, you felt oddly deflated, realizing you'd hoped- in some unrealistic corner of your mind- that someone would stand up and point at you, gasping that you'd been kidnapped- that this was a crime! That someone there would save you. Someone would know how fucked up this was, how wrong and insane.

You were an idiot.

"Pet," Jonathan leaned down to murmur in your ear, "thank Mr. Roper for a lovely dinner."

Like the doll you were expected to be, you forced a smile. "Thank you, Mr. Roper, for a lovely dinner. Goodnight."

You were almost praying he didn't answer you, but to your horror, he rose and walked over, cupping the back of your head in a paternal way. You could feel Jonathan stiffen slightly next to you as Mr. Roper smiled, those thin lips spreading almost painfully as he said, "Goodnight, dear." And then he kissed your forehead as you fought not to cringe away.

Halfway back to the cottage, you compulsively wiped the back of your hand over your forehead, trying to erase any trace of the monster wearing Mr. Roper's face. Jonathan looked down at you but didn't say a word. 

As you neared the terrace, you could see the lights glowing warmly in the bedroom, and you heaved a sigh of relief. This time, your mysterious new daddy stopped, looking up at the moon and then the sea. “The moon is full,” he mused, and began pulling you toward the surf. “Do you swim, Pet?” His smile was dangerous this time, a bit of mischief and the beginnings of lust.

“Of course,” you said without thinking, and then hastily tried to correct it. “Y- yes Daddy, I do.”

Stopping where the sand met the sea, Jonathan leaned down to place a gentle bite on the tight cord in your neck. “Good girl.” You shivered at the bite and the words and you could feel that damnable flush heading up your throat and to your cheeks as he chuckled. Stepping back and letting go of your hand, he looked you over. “Take off your dress.”

You stared at him for a moment, then looked around anxiously, “B-but-”

“What is rule 4, Pet?” That beautiful voice of his was suddenly dripping ice.

“Rule 4 is to obey you immediately,” your answer was more of a whisper, but he heard you over the surf with that keen hearing of his. When Jonathan nodded his head, your hand went to a strap and pulled it off your shoulder. You weren’t wearing a bra with this dress and your almost instant nudity was making you shake with embarrassment. Letting the dress fall to the sand, you moved it to a drier area with one foot.

There was something about the way he looked at you- it was a thorough examination, head to toe- but it was appreciative more than lustful as if he enjoyed the sight of you. Looking at the sheer white undies you were left with, one corner of his mouth turned up in a rakish smile. “Continue, darling.”

You looked behind him to see if anyone was on the beach, then quickly behind you, hands slowly going to your undies. Jonathan was suddenly in front of you, towering over you and blocking out the moon. "Do you think I would not have checked the beach? I would never allow anyone to see you this way."

The words burst out as you awkwardly crossed your arms over your chest, "Those guards today- they p-passed by the cottage and-" Shit, you were talking without being asked a direct question. Shit! 

But his hands went to your wrists, gently opening your arms wide as he pulled you closer. "They heard just enough to know you were in... training, Pet. A good daddy would never expose his girl in such a way." 

He drew your hands to his shirt. Understanding, you started unbuttoning it, still looking at his chest, the surf- anywhere but his eyes. Putting the shirt on top of your dress, you were grateful that Jonathan stripped off his pants and shoes himself. Pulling you toward the water, he gave another one of those smiles- one he never showed to the men- it was playful. “Take a swim with Daddy.”

For a minute, you could almost pretend you were back on the mainland, taking a midnight swim with your friends. Eyes closed, you dove under the waves, staying down as long as you could to keep the fantasy going. That when you broke the surface again, you’d be with Carlie, the server from Wisconsin and her boyfriend Luca, the dishwasher who performed terrible rap tunes after a couple of beers. But instead, the big hands of the man who suddenly owned you went around your ribcage, lifting and turning you to wrap your legs around his waist. Smoothing your wet hair back from your face, he gave you another rare smile. “Your skin is silver under this light- are you my little mermaid?”

“If I were a mermaid I could swim away from here…” Your chest tightened and you swallowed the tears back down. You answered a direct question, he couldn’t punish you for being honest. Maybe.

Jonathan simply sighed, sliding his hands under your bottom and hoisting you higher. "Rule 2?"

Sniffing a little, you repeated, "Rule 2: You now own me. I will accept it. My life depends on it." It took you a moment to realize you'd said it in Italian.

 

_____________________

 

The moon made her skin a silvery color- beautiful. And when those big eyes turned up to him, her tears made them shimmer silver as well. It made his heart twist.

_Keep her alive._

So he did the only thing he could think of, he kissed her. Even tearful, her arms went around his neck immediately and when his tongue prodded her lips, she opened for him. Steadying his feet in the sand so the waves didn't rock them, Pine lifted her slightly so her open center rested against his cock, already hard and against his stomach. Sliding her up and down, he created friction as her slick lips rubbed up and down, making sure to bump her clit against the puffy end of his shaft each time, enjoying the sweet hitch in her breath. And when she was swollen and pushing her hips against him, making those needy little sounds, Jonathan lifted her and entered carefully, remembering that morning. "Shhh..." he whispered into her ear, "slowly, darling, be a good girl." 

He closed his eyes, feeling the press of her breasts against his chest, those hard little nipples rubbing insistently. He squeezed her ass again, enjoying how it made her stiffen against him. She’d buried her face in the crook of her neck, still making those breathy, needy moans but he kept their rhythm slow and even. He’d gone too far this morning and he wouldn’t do it again. The waves moved them back and forth and he fit their movement to the water’s and she moaned again. “My sweet, good girl,” Jonathan said approvingly, “are you ready to come for Daddy?” He pushed harder on the base of her spine with one hand, rubbing her clit against the hair at the base of his cock, enjoying how her strong thighs tightened around him. “Do you feel how your slick is thicker than the water, Pet? How it slides along us? I want you to come all over Daddy’s cock.” Pine pushed her up and down a little harder, teeth gritted to keep his thrusts shallow but to his pleasure, she okayed him and came, little body stiff against his and moaning into his neck, trying to be quiet. He was shocked to feel himself follow her instantly, hearing her yelp a bit as he swelled, spreading her wider and filling her with warmth. Staggering and replanting his feet again, Jonathan rubbed her back, waiting for his girl to breathe normally again.

 

___________________

 

"We leave this afternoon for the Seychelles," Roper was making another drink and Pine's attention snapped back to him. He'd been thinking about his girl, who he'd left shackled to the bed. "Are you bringing your little pet?"

"Of course," Pine answered easily. "A gap in training is never a good idea. And as my gift from you, she is also my responsibility. She won't interfere with our work."

"No," Roper said, his voice utterly flat, "she won't."

 

___________________

 

You'd never been on a private jet before, nor the helicopter that took off from Mr. Roper's island to bring the group to the airstrip. Jonathan seated you a bit away from the others, in the back. "Do you get chilled when flying, Pet?" he'd asked solicitously. He'd dressed you in a pretty white linen dress that came to just over your knees and you attempted to cross your legs gracefully.

Trying to think back on when you'd been wedged between two sweaty, snoring tourists on your last night, you shook her head. "No, Daddy." It was almost a whisper but that horrid Corky heard you and giggled.

Pine ignored him and merely dropped a kiss on your forehead. "Very good. Here, this is for you." He handed you an iPhone along with some earbuds, and it took you a moment to realize it was yours. Looking up at him in shock, you let him turn on the music. "Just relax, baby." 

Waiting until he was seated across from the monster wearing Roper's face, you immediately swiped to your contact list. You couldn't believe he'd given it back! But it only took a moment to see he'd erased all of your contact lists and blocked access to anything online. So really, you were left with a glorified iPod. At least it was your music. Something still left that was yours. Closing your eyes and starting up your Owl City collection, you leaned back taking a deep breath. Something soothing, dreamy that would take you somewhere else.

 

"You're quite dull." 

You felt the seat next to you jostle and you were instantly awake and edging closer to the window. It was that Corky, smiling at you in an unpleasant way that was uniquely his. You knew it wasn't sexual, he'd made his interests clear by making out with one of the waiters during dinner last night. He made an impatient gesture. "Really, say something, you little fool."

Licking your dry lips, you shook your head. "I'm not allowed to talk to anyone without Da- without Mr. Pine's permission."

His laugh was high-pitched and irritating. "Oh, you're adorable! Just like a little doll!"

Your hands tightened around your phone. There was nothing to say.

Corky leaned closer then, hands clasped and speaking in a conspirational tone. "You realize how disposable you are, correct, darling? If you make any trouble, it won't be Pine you have to worry about. It will be me. And I will sell you to the lowest brothel I can find in all of Africa." You'd thought he was just horrible, but his compact little body was rigid, and you realized he wanted to hurt you. He was waiting for the chance. "Are. We. CLEAR!"

You jumped a little in your seat, lips pressed together. Suddenly Jonathan was looming over Corky. "And why are you bullying my little girl?"

He gave a huff as he stood from the seat, smiling insolently at Pine's cold face. "Having a chat, just us girls." He sauntered down the aisle and seated himself next to Jed again, who looked at you with contempt before flipping the next page of her magazine.

"What did he say to you?" Jonathan was murmuring in your ear, keeping your conversation away from the rest.

"He um, he s- said he would sell me to the lowest brothel in Africa if I made any trouble. That I was disposable." You knew Pine had warned you about a similar fate if you were given to someone other than him, but Corky's threats made it so _real._ Your hands were shaking and you put them under your thighs, trying to hide it. He lifted you then, easily, and planted you on his lap. You looked uncomfortably around the cabin, but everyone was deep in discussion or asleep. Turning off the light above you, Jonathan settled you more comfortably, pulling a blanket over your shoulders. He was taking off your high heels and you sighed in relief.

"Rest now, baby. No one will hurt you. You belong to me." You found yourself clutching his forearm, feeling the muscles flex. You hoped he was right.

 


	7. "Why Do You All Have Kitty Names?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which bad girls get a spanking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're looking for that next chapter of "The Reluctant Bride," I swear I'm almost finished...

 

She was dreaming. Pine was still holding his girl, one arm securely around her and the other reading through some reports for Roper on a tablet. She began moaning, it was low, like she was trying to keep it in and the girl was shaking. “...skin suit…” she whimpered, “...go home…”

Leaning close to whisper in her ear, Jonathan soothed her, “Shhhh, sweet girl. Hush. Daddy has you. You’re safe, I promise. Go back to sleep.” He almost jumped when the girl’s eyes opened abruptly.

“Promise?” Her pretty eyes were blank and unfocused, and he realized he was swimming somewhere in the river of her nightmares.

Sighing internally and vowing to himself it was the truth, Pine nodded. “I’ll keep you safe, little one. Rest now for Daddy.” Her eyes obediently drooped again, but not before he caught the growing trust there. Her trust in him.

The approach into the Seychelles Islands was heart-stopping. They were known as some of the most exquisite islands on the planet, and Pine had to agree. He gently shook the girl he’d been cradling patiently. “Time to wake up, darling. I need to put you into your seat.” He enjoying watching her wake, rubbing her nose absently against his throat and stretching in a way that was quite fetching, although it involved her pressing down unknowingly against his crotch, which was making him uncomfortably erect. When she was finally awake, her lovely eyes opened wide, feeling the heat and hardness underneath her ass. Gingerly moving to her own seat, she carefully avoided looking at Jonathan’s amused expression. Once she got a look out the tiny jet window, she gasped, nose pressed to the surface for the rest of the approach and landing.

Pine was proud of his good girl- she quietly slid into the black SUV waiting for them and kept her knees together, hands in lap and lips closed during the ride to the hotel, even when Corky started in on "Good little girls don't..." naming all kinds of unpleasant things that seemed to involve horrifying ends. Jonathan and the girl were both deeply grateful when they arrived at the private villa where Roper and his huge entourage would be staying. When they stepped out of the luxury car, she watched in concern as one of Roper's hulking bodyguards leaned in suddenly at her daddy, trying to make him flinch. Jonathan was used to this game and gave the thug a level stare. 

"Frisky..." he murmured mockingly before helping her up the stairs.

He looked down to see his little girl's lips press together to smother a giggle before mouthing "Frisky?" to herself.

___________________ 

You couldn't help but notice Jonathan specifically picked the suite furthest away from the rest of the group, and you were grateful for it. It was bad enough just being in the same building as some of those sick fucks, much less next door to them. Walking into the bedroom, you were suddenly exhausted again. The stress of the overnight flight and the nightmares kept you from sleeping much, though you did remember your strange new daddy patiently holding you in his arms for several hours. It was the most comforted you'd felt since you'd been kidnapped, and if you being unconscious allowed Pine to be kind to you, you'd fake it for as long as possible. He noticed your yawn.

"Why don't you take off those heels and that rather snug dress and take a nap, little one?" You smiled tentatively, but then he stepped closer, his eyes a polar blue again. "I will not shackle you to the bed, because I know you're quite aware that the only people around you for several miles are Roper's people- or people owned by Roper-"

"-Like you own me?" Your hand flew up to your mouth, you had no idea where the hell that came from, but Pine's beautiful face settled like stone.

"We will address your impertinence later. Take off your dress." He spun you abruptly to unzip it, then left the room as you shakily undressed and got into the divinely comfortable bed. What the hell made you spout off that smart-ass remark? You stared out the glass wall at the perfect crystal surf and worried until you managed to fall asleep.

Jonathan woke you as the sun was sinking, pulling your sleepy self from the bed and helping you into a flowing pink dress. Putting you in front of a mirror, he zipped the dress and began brushing your hair. You suddenly remembered his intention to address your "impertinence" when one huge hand slid down to cup your throat. Eyes wide, you met his stern gaze in the mirror. "I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight, little girl." This was not the warm, caressing tone he often used as your 'daddy,' and you nodded uncomfortably. "You will do nothing to draw attention to yourself. This is a complicated group of associates and not the kind of men I wish to see interested in you. Do you understand?" A cold breeze blew through the open doors to the suite's terrace, and you shivered. 

"Yes, Daddy. I understand."

And you tried, you really did. It was a large group for dinner that night- at least 20 people, mostly men with hard, glittering eyes who were far more interested in gaining Roper’s attention than noticing a quiet girl in a pink dress at the end of the table. And you tried to keep it that way, whispering “thank you” to the waitstaff, which seemed to startle them and little else. Voices grew louder as dessert and more drinks were served, cigars offered and puffs of noxious smoke fighting against the fresh breeze from the ocean. But another of Corky’s goons seemed intent on hovering over you and Jonathan, who ignored him. You admired his easy way of dismissing the thug as beneath his notice and you lowered your eyes, trying to do the same.

“Pine!” Roper’s imperious voice cut through the chatter, “Come up here, dear boy, I want you to meet…” The rest was drowned out by the renewed conversation, but his malignant gaze remained on the two of you.

Jonathan looked down at you briefly as he squeezed your thigh. “Be my good girl,” he murmured, “I’ll be back soon.”

You kept your gaze fixed on the sponge cake and exquisite lemon sauce in front of you, pretending to be invisible. Please god, let you be invisible to these men.

“Hello. What’s your name?” It was Roper’s son, standing next to your chair with a guileless little smile. You’d seen him around the compound a bit during your short stay, but always at a distance and surrounded by his father’s thugs. There was gossip at the restaurant that the boy had almost been kidnapped, but you never got the full story. But it made sense that the poor kid was shadowed now. At this moment it was the asshole who had been trying to annoy Jonathan earlier.

You smiled and held out your hand, wondering if you were allowed to use your name. “Hi, I’m… um, what’s your name?”

He smiled with those charming, oversized front teeth little kids always seemed to have before they grew into their bone structure. “Danny.” He examined you solemnly for a moment. “Do you play Minecraft?”

“Well, YEAH, Danny,” you teased, feeling lighter than you had all day. “I am the queen of Ender Pearls.”

Now the boy grinned, no polite smile. “I’ve never gotten one! Show me?” He offered his iPhone and you stared at it for a moment. Could you possibly get a message out to someone? To your aunt? The US Consulate? Just as you took the phone and swiped open the Minecraft app, a rough hand landed on your wrist and squeezed brutally, catching the phone with the other as you gasped in pain.

“What’re you up to, bitch?” It was that nasty thug again, and he was just loud enough to catch Corky’s attention, who rose and sauntered over with nauseating anticipation.

“N- nothing!” you protested, “Danny and I are just playing-”

“You were just playing what, pet?” Corky was there, his angry little body looming over yours and you noticed that Danny actually moved closer to you, rather than the man he’d known all his life. But he was plucky.

“We're just going to play Minecraft,” Danny said stubbornly, “she’s going to show me how to get an Ender Pearl.”

Corky cut him off with a falsely fond smile. “Why don’t you go kiss your father and Jed goodnight, Danny my boy? Your nanny is waiting to put you to bed.” The boy knew he was outnumbered, so with a resigned glance at you, he stood.

“Maybe we can play tomorrow?” he offered wistfully.

Forcing a smile, you nodded. “If your dad says it’s all right. Goodnight, Danny.”

The boy’s smile in return was surprisingly sweet, and you found yourself praying that his loathsome sire’s genes were not dominant. “Goodnight.”

He just made it to the end of the table when Corky swooped in, hissing into your face and spraying you with his spittle. “Don’t you dare get near that boy again, do you hear me? If you put another toe out of line, I will have Tabby here cut it off. Do you understand?”

You were staring at his reddened face, hoping a little that maybe he would just have a stroke. “Um, Tabby and the other one, Frisky?” You had no idea what was coming out of your mouth but you could see Jonathan closing in fast.

“Yes?” hissed Corky.

“Why do you all have kitty names? It doesn’t exactly strike terror into the heart of your enemy to have someone named after a cat threatening them.”

Unfortunately, a couple of the male guests close by heard your observation and began laughing a little drunkenly. “Here, kitty kitty,” teased one, and you knew you were dead.

“I have some milk for you!” tittered another as Pine’s hand closed firmly on your upper arm. You rose as he yanked at you, half stumbling and followed him from the terrace.

You followed him as quickly as you could in your high heels as Jonathan hauled you briskly through the halls and through the doors of your suite. As they shut, you looked up just as his hand came down, slapping your left cheek. You sucked in a breath, forcing yourself not to cry. It certainly wasn’t the first time you’d been slapped, and it really wasn’t even that hard, though you could tell it was going to leave a bruise tomorrow.

“What. Part. Of. Do not draw attention to yourself was in any way unclear?” Pine’s voice was ice, his gaze polar and you shivered in response.

“I’m sorr-” He growled, the big man looming over you actually _growled_ and you shut up.

Pine hauled you into the bedroom, his words coming out clipped and furious. "You mocked the most dangerous man in Roper's organization? You foolish little girl! You've decided to give Corky another reason to want to hurt you? _End_ you?" You were shaking now, he was so angry at you and oddly, disappointed too, which made you feel worse.

"Daddy, please forgive me Danny just wanted to-"

He shouted directly into your face, making you jump. "How do you think I can keep you safe if you do such stupid, dangerous things? Insulting the man who already wants you dead in front of the other guests?" You could feel tears stinging your sore cheek and pressed your lips together, trying to stay silent. Jonathan was furious, you could see that. But there was an undercurrent of fear that startled you. This man, your daddy, never seemed afraid of anything- but he was scared for you. In a second, he was seated on the bed, legs spread wide and you were over them, hips on one long thigh and your chest on the other. You flailed for a moment, shocked and trying to get a grip on something to balance yourself. Your pretty pink skirt was suddenly thrown over your head and you yelped as you felt him rip off your underwear, the elastic scraping against your upper thigh. "Bad girls get spanked," Pine said coldly. "You will count each one and thank me for it."

You kicked, furious and forgetting to be terrified for your life. "No! I'm not- OW!" You'd forgotten how alarmingly large your daddy's hands were, and the one that just spanked you nailed both soft globes of your ass at the same time. The sting was searingly hot and you struggled again, only to be met with another resounding slap.

"Are you ready to count, you bad little girl? I can do this all night." You knew Pine was furious, but his voice was controlled. 

You gave one more attempt at getting off his lap, only to be met with the hardest strike yet. "O- ONE!" you gasped, "Thank you, Daddy." You hated him, you hated this son of a bitch bastard who'd decided to own you and- "OW! Two thank you, Daddy!" His rough hand smoothed over your ass for a moment, then squeezed the sore flesh harshly before continuing. You were crying by the tenth strike and your tears were dripping upside down into your hair and on his fine wool trousers. By the twentieth, you were sobbing loudly and begging him to stop.

"Be quiet, or I will administer another 20," he whispered into your ear, and you nodded, red-faced and the entire lower part of your body on fire. Outside the door to your suite, you heard the scrape of someone's shoe and a faint giggle as they walked away. You'd had an audience. "Why have I punished you?" Jonathan was relentless.

"Because I-" you spitefully wiped your nose on the leg of his pants. "-I drew attention to myself?" You could feel the weight of his hand hovering over the blazing skin of your ass.

"And what else?"

"I was rude and taunted Corky? I disobeyed you?"

To your great relief, Pine's hand drew away from your sore bottom. It rested gently on the small of your back, absently stroking back and forth. "I do not know how to explain any more clearly, little one, that the rules I make for you are meant to keep you safe, keep you alive. You are not a human to these men. You are an object, something to use and throw away. As your daddy, it is my job to take care of you. But I cannot do this if you make stupid, childish mistakes. Are we clear?"

You nodded so hard that you got a little dizzy, and by the time Jonathan lifted you upright and rested you on one hip on his lap, it took you a minute to regain your balance. His hard chest was comforting, even if you hated him for spanking you. You'd read the novels where the girls got wet and aroused after a spanking. You were not feeling either of those things. Your butt was on fire and you were grateful he was holding you so the worst of the sting was not pressed against him.

"Answer me. Use your words." His beautiful voice hadn't thawed, but the fury was gone.

Sniffing, you managed to say, "I'm sorry. I understand. I should have kept my mouth shut. I hope I didn't cause any trouble for you."

That last statement seemed to surprise him, Jonathan leaned back to look at you. Taking your chin in his hand and lifting it, he waited until you looked at him directly. "Then this is behind us. You are my good girl again." Your relief and gratitude almost embarrassed you, but you nodded before tucking your face into his shoulder again.

_____________________

He held the girl for a moment, rocking gently before standing up, still holding her in his arms and smiling slightly as she gave a startled yelp. He could feel the heat from her poor, scarlet ass against his legs as he started the big shower, adjusting the showerhead above them to pour down like rain. Soaping her very gently, Pine frowned as the girl flinched back as he touched the swollen handprint on her cheek. That would show a clear bruise tomorrow, which was his intention. He'd tried to slap her with the least amount of force possible but she'd taken it stoically, which told him it wasn't the first time she'd been slapped. Self-disgust rose in his gut. The only other time he'd used force on a woman was in Iraq, when a militant tried to stab him, screaming invectives. Even then, he'd simply shoved her back and disarmed her before she was bound and taken away. 

_Keep her alive._

Pine felt her arms slide timidly around his waist and he hugged her to him, his sweet girl's soapy front slipping and sliding against him in a most distracting way. Turning the water a little cooler as it flowed over her sore bottom, his long fingers returned to her wet lips. They were so _warm_ , suddenly and getting wetter as he stroked along them. Smothering a groan, he bent his head to kiss her neck and the soft skin of her shoulder. "Would you like me to make you feel better, little one?"

She looked up at him, those pretty eyes wide and a little hopeful. "Yes, please?"

"Such nice manners, darling," Pine teased gently, drawing up one leg and hooking it over his hip, pressing her against the cool tile. The girl gasped as her sore ass met the wall of the shower, but she didn't move. "There we are," he soothed, gently rubbing her soft, wet pelvis against the straining length of his cock, enjoying how her breath hitched a little every time her clitoris bumped against the head of his shaft. After a few more passes, she was actually helping him, rising on tiptoe on her other leg and arching against him a little. She was heaven, this girl- all slick skin and the little noises she was making. He gently checked her and felt her wet and ready for him. "I'm going to lift you on to my cock, sweet girl," Pine soothed, trying to sound calm when all he really wanted to do was hoist her lithe body up and then straight down onto his shaft and just ride her hard. Carefully reaching under her red bottom, he slid his hands around her thighs, opening her wide and then fitting his hips between her legs and feeling the throbbing tip of him pushing into the girl's wet opening. Sliding her down over his cock made them both groan, and Pine pushed her harder against the wall, kissing her and trying to distract her from the sting and painful stretch of his entry.

"Such a good girl for daddy," he managed, trying to hold still and let her settle. She was maddeningly hot and gripping his cock in a really distracting way, and the slightest movement made all that tender tissue inside her flutter against him. "You are terribly tempting, baby," Pine growled into her ear, reaching for the body wash and pouring it between them and over her breasts, enjoying her little gasp as it slid down the smooth skin of her stomach, around where they joined and dripping from his scrotum. "I'm going to lift you now," Pine continued, enjoying her shuddering, "can you feel those tender breasts of yours rub against me? How slippery and silky you feel, moving up and down on my cock? Such a greedy, juicy little thing you are..." Her legs tightened so hard around him that Pine felt the small of his back creak a bit, and he grinned into her throat, biting it gently. "I'm going to bounce you up and down now, and I want you to ride my cock. Do you understand?" He refused to let her move, even though her hips were trying to make an inviting little rotation 

“Answer your daddy.”

“Yes Daddy,” she groaned, trying to sound coherent, “I’ll be your good girl. I promise I’m your good girl, just please- AH!” His first lift and drop down was brutal, spearing to the end of her and rubbing painfully against her cervix, Pine closed his eyes and bit back a groan. He could feel the points of her womb quiver against the sensitive head of his shaft, but he forced himself to move more smoothly, enjoying the loud squelch of the soapy bubbles covering them both and the sleek feel of her personal slick sliding over his cock, so slippery against his balls and their upper thighs.

“Beautiful…” he purred, “such a beautiful, sweet girl.” Pine lost himself in the slippery, silky heat of this delicious girl until he felt her thighs grip him and those fluttering walls tighten almost uncomfortably around him. Reaching between them to lightly stroke her hard little clit with his thumb, he managed to say, “Good girls ask for permission before they come.”

“Oh, god…” she groaned, breasts heaving against him in a delightfully distracting way. “May I please come, Daddy? Please? I’ll be your good girl just please let me come, I…” Her polite pleas broke off as Pine moved against her, faster and stroking harder until her back snapped into an arch and she cried out, trying to slap her hand over her mouth until he pulled it away.

“Let me hear you,” Pine ordered hoarsely, and his little girl did as she was told, gasping and crying out as she convulsed around his shaft. He gritted his teeth, bending his knees to drive up into her harder until he exploded inside her too, circling his hips and hearing her whimper.

“Ssss… sensitive, Daddy,” she pleaded, but he kept stroking her gently until her responsive little body came again before leaning on him weakly.

She was barely awake as he rinsed her off and put her on her stomach on the cool sheets, gently smoothing some aloe vera over her blistered bottom before letting her curl around him in her sleep. Looking up at the shadows on the ceiling, Pine rested his arm over his forehead. He’d managed to get a coded message out to Angela’s link in Italy as they left the helicopter but before boarding the jet where the equipment would intercept any message. He had to insist that all the information gained over the last two days about Roper’s upcoming arms deal in the Middle East would be enough to guarantee his girl’s safe removal from here. They would have to find a way.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, fun fact about the Seychelles Islands: the man who owned the media company I used to work for was ridiculously wealthy and a staunch GOP supporter. (Translation: gave a fuck ton of money to the Republican Party.) He was rewarded for his loyalty with an Ambassadorship to the Seychelles Islands during the Bush years here in the US. He turned out to be so utterly abysmal at being a US Ambassador that the Seychelles actually threw him out and told the State Department that he was NOT coming back. How hard is it to be an ambassador to a little island chain? Seriously? How hard do you have to fuck up to get thrown out? Personally, I'd seen the man in a tiny swimsuit (not willingly, I assure you) and for that reason alone, I understand his banishment.


	8. "Your name is Sirène."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you are finally given a name. And an afternoon of gelato and Minecraft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that updates for this story and "The Reluctant Bride" have been slower- I've been editing my most popular story "I Love The Way You Lie" for publication on Amazon.com. I will be offering a free download on the first day for all of you in gratitude for your support. It should be this week- I'll post something that day. Thank you all for reading! You have given me such joy.

(image credit: [Devika Fernando](https://66.media.tumblr.com/c7002fe03b53705d09d51ad2391f7ae6/tumblr_inline_psiak3KiZd1t045hx_540.gif))

 

"You will not use makeup. I want that bruise to be quite clear."

The girl was getting dressed for a lunch Roper was hosting for the rest of his malevolent herd. They'd managed to escape the rest with breakfast in their suite while Pine went over some paperwork. But now it was time to face the others. She paused, staring at him. "That's why you hit me? You wanted to show you'd punished me?"

Jonathan's mouth was set in a thin line. "I have never struck a woman before. You are the first. But it must appear that you have been... disciplined for your behavior at dinner."

She looked ready to cry, but she pressed her lips together for a moment, narrowing her eyes. "If you'd told me that, I would have held still for you. Hell, I would have leaned into it. But you just... hit me. Like a dog." Her head lowered, as she continued to pull on the slim tan jeans and floaty white top he'd laid out for her. But she refused to look at him, even though Jonathan deliberately stood in front of her, a small defiance that he rather admired. He was so close that her arms brushed his chest lightly as she straightened the top.

He sighed deeply, the words tasting like ash. "I am sorry, little one. I was wrong to hit you." Now she looked up, eyes wide and startled. Very, very gently, Jonathan cupped her bruised cheek, his thumb stroking over the mark with a feather-light touch. "A good daddy administers punishment, not abuse." She mumbled something and his thumb ran over her lips. "Speak clearly darling."

"I said..." the girl hesitated, then lifted her chin. "It's not the first slap I've ever taken, Daddy. And definitely not the worst."

That fist clenching around Pine's gut tightened again. The words were out of his mouth before he weighed them, measuring their wisdom, their impact. "If I have my way, that slap will be your last." Lifting his hand from her sore cheek, Jonathan quickly turned his gaze away so he wouldn't see the cautious bloom of hope in hers. "Come, darling," he said abruptly, all business. "We must meet the others for lunch."

For such an innocent, rather awkward creature, Jonathan had to admire his girl's understanding of the situation. She followed him across the golden stone terrace, the sunlight reflecting almost painfully off the crystal stemware and snowy linen napkins. Her head was down, the marred cheek turned slightly away from the group as if she was trying to hide it. She flinched slightly when Jonathan pulled out a chair for her, and he felt oddly proud of her. 

 ————————————

As lunch droned on, Mr. Roper spoke easily from the head of the table, talking about a Middle East trip coming up and the goals for food shipments, troop movements and the patterns of the rebels in the area. While their host never mentioned the country, you could figure it out from the description. Your heart nearly stopped when he mentioned a "Boys-only venture." Did that mean you'd... shit, what did that mean? Would Jonathan leave you here alone? There was no one you could trust if Corky and his band of freaks decided to kill you. Or worse. Shivering from a sudden gust of wind coming off the ocean, you looked up at Jonathan, your mysterious daddy. He had truly seemed regretful about slapping you. Not like mom and dad, who used to sober up and pretend they hadn't hit you, or they'd cry over your swollen face the next day and promise that "It would never happen again, honey! Never!" But looking at his sharp, lean profile, you dared to hope Jonathan meant it.

Just as everyone finished their sorbet and melon, Mr. Roper beckoned to Jonathon, and to your horror, you seemed to be included in the gesture from his long, spidery fingers. Sure enough, Jonathan's hand took your upper arm, pulling you up firmly and dragging you to the head of the table. "Jonathan, Danny's been missing your outings." The boy heard his name and edged closer to his father, smiling hopefully. But then the monster wearing Mr. Roper's face looked at you. "And Danny tells me you were both hoping to play a game of... what was it?"

"Minecraft," the boy supplied helpfully, giving you an eager and guileless smile.

"Ah, Minecraft," Mr. Roper nodded. "At any rate, a short trip to the local village and a rousing game or two might be just the thing. Everyone gets some fresh air, the children-" once again, he looked at you and you were seconds from vomiting your lunch on his expensive white shirt, "-the children," he continued, "get some screen time. Not too much, son!" The monster chastised Danny playfully and you forced a sickly smile on your face.

Danny came around the table, smiling up at you and Jonathan happily. "Thank you! It's going to be so much fun!" He took your hand. "Will you tell me your name now?"

You could feel the sweat trickle down your back and even Mr. Roper was leaning in, watching the little scene with some amusement. What the hell could you say?

"I... it's-"

"Sirène," Jonathan spoke first. "Her name is Sirène, Danny. Isn't that pretty?"

Staring at him, you tried to control the warmth blooming in your chest. Sirène. French, meaning mermaid. It was such a poetic name and from this strange, hard man?

"Very pretty," Danny agreed with a slight flush.

Jonathan smiled, rubbing his hands together in a "We're all good friends here" sort of way. "Then let's be on our way. Come, darling."

Forcing yourself to nod politely, you managed to whisper, "Thank you for a lovely lunch and time with Danny, Mr. Roper," before quickly turning and scuttling away before the man could speak, or worse yet, touch you again.

 

It was only a short ride to Beau Vallon from the estate, and you and Danny kept your noses pressed to the windows, admiring the shoreline that flowed along the narrow road. He kept pulling on your sleeve to show you tiny monkeys chattering at the jeep as you passed by. You looked over once to see Jonathan watching you with a slight smile.

Pulling up to a quaint town square, your hand was taken by Jonathan's and you automatically reached out for Danny's. You'd always wanted a brother, but your older, more cynical self was happy there wasn't another sibling to protect from your parents. "This is straight out of Central Casting, I swear," you murmured, but of course Pine's sharp hearing caught it.

"What do you mean, darling?" 

Grateful that he hadn't called you "Pet" in front of Danny, you gave him a dazzling smile. "Just... everything," you answered, sweeping your hand across the square. "The sky is a perfect azure, colorful little stands, the amazing smell of food cooking, the ocean..." Sighing dreamily, you let him twirl you in a circle for a moment, hearing the boy next to you giggle. The only non-perfect element was the unfortunate addition of Tabby and Frisky, who were no doubt holding a grudge still for your kitty comment the night before. They clustered so closely behind you that one of them stomped on your heel. Twice.

Pine stopped abruptly, and they bumped into him. "Back two paces, and surrounding the person you are meant to protect," he said in a tone so deadly that even you took a step away from him. They both made snarling sort of noises but obeyed. Heading in the direction of a store selling wooden toys, Danny pulled on your hand slightly. 

"Can we go over there?" His eager little face made your heart twist. How could he be so sweet? What would he turn into when he found out what his father was?

Squeezing his hand, you looked up to Jonathan. "Would that be all right?" It seemed so odd to be asking questions, to be speaking without being spoken to- but there seemed to be a temporary halt of Rule One for today. But Jonathan was looking across the plaza at a woman by the candy stand. His hand was slack on yours, so you gave it a cautious tug. "Um... Da- I mean Jonathan?" This time his polar gaze snapped back to you, and it was the gaze of Harsh Daddy again. With an effort, he gave you an affable smile.

"Who would like some gelato?" 

"In Africa?" Danny questioned.

Jonathon chuckled, "The Seychelles Islands used to belong to the Crown- to the United Kingdom. But the actual influence here is French and Creole. And the French influence brought in a bit of Italy, hence, the gelato." He nodded to the toy store. "Go ahead and have a look, I'll get your gelato. What flavor?"

"Coconut if they have it?" Danny asked shyly, "Or chocolate."

Your dark and beautiful daddy looked at you tilting his head in query.

"Just vanilla for me, please," you shrugged, "I'm boring."

His mouth was right next to your ear, and he purred in his most deadly, sublime tone. "Oh, I disagree, little one." Jonathan turned, heading for the gelato stand as Danny giggled.

"You're blushing Sirène. You _like_ him. You like Jonathan. Are you going to marry him?" The boy was grinning, enjoying teasing you and you tickled him in response. But it felt like a different kind of slap to the face. This wasn't dating. Jonathan was not your boyfriend. He owned you. Anyone who cared thought you were dead. And if the people who loved you thought you were dead... did it mean you didn't exist, really? 

Swallowing back your grief, you pulled on his hand, "C'mon, you!"

While Danny picked up toys, shook them, made the wheels turn and giggled when you made a puppet dance in his hair, you were watching Jonathan across the square. The woman in front of him was taking a very long time to decide what flavor she wanted, apparently. But you smiled. She was pregnant and looked very tired and cross. As far as you were concerned, she deserved to sample every single one.

————————————————- 

"Are you out of your mind?" Angela Burr hissed between gritted teeth, "What the bloody hell were you _thinking?"_

Pine forced himself to look indifferent, just a man waiting for gelato. "This wasn't about me, Angela. They caught me speaking to her and kidnapped her for me as... as a gift. Her extended family has been told she's dead. You're surprised Roper's involved in human trafficking?"

Absently rubbing her stomach, his pregnant contact snorted inelegantly. "I'm sorry, but this isn't the time to be risking the operation to pull out some girl. You'll just have to take care of her until a situation appears where we can rescue her."

"I've given you more than enough valuable intel in the last five minutes alone to warrant diverting resources to rescue this girl," he wasn't giving up, eyes darting to where Sirène was chasing Danny with a marionette. They were both giggling it only made him feel worse. "Look, Angela- you must- she's an innocent caught in the crossfire. She does not deserve this."

Angela was remorseless. "None of us do, Jonathan. Carry on. We're close and there's no room for error here." She walked away before he could say anything else and he smothered a growl, ordering three gelatos from the tired teenager behind the counter.

 

His frustration increased as he watched his girl and Danny lounging on the car seat together, playing Minecraft and poking each other. How would he get her out of this? He couldn't possibly leave her behind during the Middle East trip. Corky would be at Roper's compound with Jed. He doubted the other woman would lift a hand to help Sirène. It was clear Jed hated the girl, though he couldn't see why. He was silent the rest of the way back to their villa. 

_Keep her alive._

Walking back to their suite, Pine put a possessive hand on the small of her back, stroking her spine softly when she thanked him for a wonderful day. Those, sweet, old-fashioned manners of hers... However, they were back in enemy territory and the rules must be observed. Kissing her cheek, he praised, "Lovely, darling. And you are welcome. But now you must remember Rule One." Her steps slowed, but Sirène nodded silently. 

The ocean was on fire with the sunset as he opened the doors to their private terrace. There was a cobalt infinity pool there. It was lovely, but Pine shook his head. He never understood the point of every seaside home requiring a swimming pool. The entirety of the warmth of the ocean before them and instead they would submerge in chlorine. However... his cock began to stir as he remembered taking his little one in the warm surf under the full moon.

Pine looked down as his girl walked over to him, gazing up with a question that she knew she couldn’t ask. It would be tortuous, he thought absently, not given leave to ask a simple question. But this was training. And she had to learn. Waiting just long enough to watch her twitch a bit, he finally asked, “Did you have a question, little one?”

She gave him a relieved smile. "Thank you Daddy, yes. I was just wondering if we had to..." she tried not to make a face, but it slipped through. "Had to have dinner with Mr. Roper again tonight?"

He ran his hands up and down her arms. "No, darling. Roper is meeting someone tonight. It is just you and me."  Her instant look of gratitude moved him. 

They sat on the terrace for dinner, Jonathan poured her a glass of wine, enjoying her pleased smile. The sky lit with fiery streaks of reds and purples, and the girl barely ate as she watched nature's showy finish to the day. Putting down his glass, he pulled her to her feet, walking to the stone wall. Sliding an arm around her, Jonathan anchored her to his front and gently moved her chin to face due west, he whispered, "Watch..." Just as the sun sank over the water, a blinding surge of golden light shot across the sea, illuminating a shining path from the sun to where they stood. His girl gasped, and he bathed in the pleasure of her look of wonder. 

"What...?" she stopped, remembering Rule One.

"It's a trick of the light," Pine answered, one hand smoothing over her stomach and hip, "but for a moment, it seems as if you could walk the golden bridge to Paradise. The religious leaders used to call it 'The Shining Path.' It is due to being so close to the equator here in Seychelles and that we happen to be here during the Equinox. It is very rare."

She was still staring longingly over the ocean, smiling slightly. "Miraculous..." the girl sighed, "the Shining Path."

Looking down into his little one's rapt face, Pine smiled. "Miraculous indeed."

 

His feelings of - likely unhealthy - softness toward the girl he'd named for a mermaid made Jonathan take his time that night, undressing her slowly with kisses between removing her clothing and the pretty underwear he'd put out for her that morning. Blushing and shy, she took off his shirt, her hands hesitating at his belt buckle. Helping her finish, he pulled her into the infinity pool. They slipped in silently, gliding around each other, hands sliding along slick flanks or stroking through wet hair. Finally, too hard to bear it, Jonathan lifted her easily to the side of the pool. "Put your feet here, darling. There's a good girl..." he put her heels on the edge of the pool and opened her knees. Spreading his muscled arms around them, he rested his stubbled chin on her soft little mound, smiling up at the girl devilishly. "You will keep your eyes on me." As his mouth descended on to her center, he heard her first little groan and he chuckled, knowing the vibration was almost unbearable on her sensitive clitoris. 

————————————— 

Jonathan was the devil. Seriously, the man was Satan. Your neck ached from holding your head upright and your gaze on the beautiful man currently situated between your legs. Your head felt like it weighed 300 pounds and all you wanted to do was flop on your back and stare up at the night sky. Looking at his wicked blue gaze... it was terribly embarrassing and vulnerable, especially when his lips and tongue were stroking along all your soft and secret places. The bristled surface of his chin would occasionally rub hard against the opening to you and it made you try to draw your knees together, impossible since he had you in an unbreakable grip. And when he hummed... oh, _god-_  he wanted to kill you! 

“Oh…” did that count as breaking Rule One? His broad shoulders shook and you breathed in another soft moan, realizing he was chuckling again. His beautiful eyes looked up at you to see your hand over your mouth, trying to shut _up-_ and his lips fastened around your clitoris and sucked. Hard. You shrieked, the sound echoing over the water and you couldn’t stop as he dragged you into an orgasm that made every muscle in your body seize tight. Then, another shriek when two of his long and unfairly dexterous fingers slid inside you, twisting and sliding and pressing- and then a long, drawn-out moan that would have been humiliating if you’d been aware you were making it.

When you came back to yourself, you were on your back, panting. Jonathan’s broad hand was stroking soothingly over your belly.

“There you are…” he purred approvingly, laughing a little when all you could manage was a feeble, affirmative-sounding noise. “Come here little one.” His arms slid up to pull you to him, back in the water. You rested your head against his shoulder for a moment, trying to regain your senses. “Rule eight…” he said, nibbling lightly along your throat.

“Huh?” You cringed, knowing how dazed you sounded.

Jonathan’s hands went to your hips and he began moving you back and forth in the gentle current of the pool. “Rule eight, little one,” he reminded you. “When coming, you are not only allowed but required to make all those lovely noises. You must not withhold them from me.”

“Oh,” you managed, aware that his hugely hard cock was stroking across your swollen center. Then he turned you, resting your arms on the very edge of the pool so you could see the water spill below you, and then out to the ocean. He took your hips again and lifted you on to his cock. Resting his chest over your back, Jonathan angled one arm across your chest, holding on to the opposite shoulder and began to stroke in and out of you. It was liquid, a smooth, effortless glide as that invasive, wide part of him breached you over and over. When the feeling was so intense and you unknowingly began to wiggle away from the heat and weight of him inside you, Jonathan put his other hand over your cleft, holding you still as you gasped and shivered.

“Be my good girl,” he whispered, sucking lightly on your earlobe. “Daddy will take care of you, my cock is anchoring inside you, and you will feel it. Every inch.”

“Oh… _god!”_

Damn him! He was chuckling again. “The feel of you, your silky, grasping walls. So hot! I’m going to come now. I’m going to spurt inside you and fill you up until my come is leaking from you for days.” You were tightening against his shaft. You could feel his knees bend, lean hips driving harder up against you. One big hand, rough and calloused against your skin gently squeezed one breast, then the other. There was a surge tearing through you and your back arched, helpless to stop or move or do anything but feel that giant shaft opening you wide. “Here we go, little one, here we go…” he was breathing in your ear, that compelling, sonorous voice of his making all your senses center on him and how he felt. Your feet wrapped helplessly against his leg, trying to anchor against the push of his cock and then, the orgasm he ordered you to have burned down your spine and centered around him inside you. And when you startled even yourself with the scream that came from your gasping mouth, Jonathan groaned and came inside you. You felt the flood of heat and came again, weakly.

You held motionless at the end of the infinity pool, combined, one organism with no sense of where you ended and he began, just staring into the night sky with constellations of stars unrecognizable from the ones you knew.

 

 

 


	9. Author's Note

Dear friends- my story "I Love The Way You Lie" is now up on Kindle! I am offering it for free today (Sunday) and Monday 6.16-17. I want to emphasize I'm not asking you to buy anything. But if you'd like to drop by and click "read for free" and then perhaps leave me a comment on Tuesday, it would mean a great deal to me. You've all been wonderful and created a community here that I treasure. I thank you with all my heart. My author name is Arianna Fraser- Amazon and Kindle wouldn't let me use Caffiend. Go figure. Thank you!!!

I promise a new chapter for Everyone Has A Vice, Pine by Tuesday! Promise!


	10. "You're Not Important Enough To Hate."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you reluctantly spend time apart. And then Jonathan gives you an entirely new, very unfair challenge. Because he's mean like that.

 

"This is definitely Sirene’s Jonathan ;)" DevilishDoll. BTW: if you haven't read our lovely DevilishDoll's debut work: ["The Patron Saint of Sucking Cock,"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19217185) you must get [your ass over there immediately](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19217185). You'll thank me for this.  

 

 

With the next day came the orders Jonathan had been dreading.

 

"Come here, lovely." His gut twinged a little as she came around the corner, smiling to see him standing there. When was the last time a woman smiled, just in the pleasure of his company? And to receive it from this girl after all that had happened... Taking her hands in his, Jonathan continued smoothly, "I must be off to meetings today with Roper- we might be gone overnight." Her smile dropped. "Corky and his idiot team will be with us," he added hastily, soothingly. "You will be here with the general staff, and Danny." Sirène looked up at him, eyes huge. He knew she was waiting for permission to ask a question, and Pine felt oddly proud of her. "You may speak."

"Who..." she licked her lips and started over. "Should I just stay in the suite, keep the doors locked?"

Jonathan sighed, "Danny is quite happy that you're staying behind, so I believe you'll be spending time with him. You are safe on the estate grounds. You will not, of course, attempt to leave it. You will find the surrounding populace is not sympathetic to kidnapped Americans." It was harsh, he knew it by the way her lips tightened and her gaze dropped. But here, a fresh coat of fear would keep her covered. "Karl is staying behind." The bodyguard was the least offensive of the security surrounding Roper, which was not much of a recommendation, but it was the best option they had. He picked up a cheap flip phone and handed it to her. "This only reaches my cell number. If there's a problem, lock yourself in here and call me immediately. You will also answer it right away should I call you." Sirène's head was down and she was looking at the phone. With a sigh, Jonathan's hand slid under her chin, lifting it to force her to look at him. "What do you say?"

She answered as he knew she would, his good girl. "Yes, Daddy."

 

Despite your effort to keep your composure, you clung to your captor for a moment when he bent to kiss you goodbye. He was so handsome, a dark blue blazer and open-necked white shirt. You'd been mentally cycling through who would be left at the estate, and there was no one who would help you. Not if they wanted to live. And it had just occurred to you that Roper's mean girlfriend would be here, too. Ugh. Jonathan was pulling away from you, and you forced yourself to smile, aware that some of the men watching you. "Have a good trip, Daddy," you said softly, hearing Corky's little giggle.

Nonetheless, Jonathan gave you a firm kiss, hand lingering on the back of your head. "Be my good little girl." It sounded like a warning to those listening, but you could see his eyes, warm and as beautiful as the Mediterranean. So you nodded back and watched as they disappeared into the waiting helicopter. 

As you’d expected, barely five minutes had passed before you heard Danny’s cheerful voice outside your door. “Hello? Sirène? Can you come out and play?” For a moment, your heart thudded painfully and you sagged against the wall. It reminded you of your childhood, of the neighborhood kids who’d sidle by the kitchen screen door and invite you out to play all afternoon. Away from your parents. You’d had a little network of neighborhood Mums who’d tactfully invite you over for dinner and pretend not to notice how much you ate, like you were starving. _‘Well, that was then,’_ you counseled yourself. _‘You haven’t had to be saved for a long time. Its time to figure out how to save yourself.’_ With that pep talk, you pasted a smile on your face and opened the door.

“Well, _yeah!_ Swimming first or Minecraft?” His look of incredulity made you laugh. “Okay, Minecraft, sure.”

For a while, you could forget about why you were really here. Danny nestled next to you in one of the big, cushioned chaise lounges facing the beach as you both furiously created portals and battled the Ender dragon. But when he finally wanted to go swimming, it took you a moment to wonder if you even had anything to wear. Certainly, your water-based activities with Jonathan had never included a swimsuit. However, as just as Danny knocked on the suite door again, you'd found a pink bikini with a ruffled, adorable little skirt bottom. Your eyes rolled. Of course. Still, it fit and once the two of you were shrieking and jumping in and out of the waves, you were almost absurdly happy. The little boy was nothing like the monster who spawned him, his freckled face alight, gap-toothed grin making your heart melt. You'd always wondered if you could have children. With your background, could you possibly be a good mother? Everyone always swore they'd be nothing like their abusive parents until... With a sigh, you pushed the thought out of your mind, but it surged back up, this time you pregnant and Jonathan seated before you, kissing the smooth skin of your belly. You stopped short, which gave Danny a chance to nail you with a huge splash of salty water. Where the hell had _that_ come from? Sex slaves and girls who called their captor "Daddy" did not have children. You shuddered, nothing could be more horrible, trapped like this and trying to protect a child. That cold, sane portion of your brain piped up. "Jonathan takes care of what is his..." You shuddered. Nope, nope nope. That was definitely not from the sane portion of your brain.

It was when you were showering and your fingers felt the sore spot on your neck that another thought surged with blinding clarity. Jonathan never wore a condom. You were having unprotected sex. You braced one hand against the shower wall dizzy all of a sudden and panting. Oh, shit. Oh, SHIT. He was not the sort of man who left anything to chance. Jonathan wanted you to become pregnant? Tears surged down your face and you tried to cry silently. You had to get away from here, you _had_ to.

For that reason, you gave in to Danny's pleading to have dinner at the main house. Maybe there was an option here you were missing? Unfortunately, the person seated next to your little host made your steps slow.

"Sirène!" His happy voice stopped you from a hasty retreat, and you pasted a smile on your lips.

"Hey, Danny. I can't believe you haven't passed out in your salad by now. That was a crazy afternoon." Roper's son held out your chair for you like a perfect little gentleman. Jed was angrily ordering another drink from the waiter, and you tried to focus your attention on the boy. This was going to suck.

You were correct. The eight-year-old was the one who handled the conversation at the dinner table, his open, honest face confused every time Jed added a nasty remark. You gritted your teeth and focused on Danny. Nothing good was going to come out of tangling with Mr. Roper's mistress. A bitter chuckle slipped out. Mistress. At least she was willing and getting paid for it.

"What's so goddamned funny?" The blonde was taking advantage of Danny's trip to the loo to speak to you for the first time since you'd been delivered to the compound in that box.

Swallowing the bite of swordfish in your mouth, you looked her right in the eye. "Why do you hate me? What have I ever done to you?"

“I don’t hate you,” Jed scoffed, “you’re not important enough to hate.”

Your hands clenched into fists, but you kept them in your lap. “If I found another woman kidnapped and given away like a piece of meat, I’d want to help her. You chose this. I didn’t.”

Oddly, this seemed to please her. “Oh, dear. Jonathan isn’t taking care of his ‘little girl’?” Jed mockingly made the quotation marks with her fingers. “You’re nothing, and you won’t last long. You can’t keep a man like Jonathan… a man as dangerous as he is entertained enough to put up with you.”

Staring at her, you finally nodded your head. “Oh, of course.”

Jed’s eyes narrowed. “Of course, what?”

Shrugging, you stood up, putting your napkin next to your plate. “You want him, and knowing Da- Jonathan, he’s been ignoring you. Because only a moron would have anything to do with his boss’s mistress. Especially-” you shuddered, you couldn’t help it, “-especially someone like Mr. Roper.”

“Fuck. You.” The words were bitten out like Jed wished your neck was between her teeth instead of the curse, but you kept walking. 

The phone your mysterious Daddy had given you chose to go off as you were walking on the beach back to your guest suite. 

“Hello? Daddy?”

“Hello, darling.” His smooth, sonorous voice swept over you like a caress. “Have you been my good girl today?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you managed to say. You could hear some papers rustling, a low conversation and he was back on the phone. 

“What did my good little girl do today while Daddy was at work?” There was a slightly different tone to the question, and you suspected it was for show, likely for Mr. Roper.

“Um, I played Minecraft with Danny and we went swimming.” You weren’t sure what you were supposed to contribute to the little game, so you kept it short.

Most papers crinkling, and then Jonathan chuckled. “Such a good girl. We are flying home tonight, I’ll be there in an hour or so.”

Your relief was palpable. “Oh, thank you, Daddy! I’m so glad. I didn’t want to… um, I didn’t want to sleep without you here.” What you meant was you were terrified of being there at the villa, alone for all intents and purposes and not sure if the men’s fear of Pine would outweigh their desire to hurt you.

His chuckle was low, but you knew he understood you. “I’ll be home soon, little one.”

You were embarrassed at the huge rush of relief that gave you. 

 

Fortunately for Jonathan, there was no taunting or questions about his "little girl" when he ended the call with Sirène, though he'd noticed Roper listened to their conversation with some interest. And interest in his girl was the last thing he wanted the man to have. Roper was flying high after the smooth finish to that edgy transaction. He’d watched with disgust when Frisky actually tried to flash a gun at the banker. He was stunned that Roper allowed such idiots in his circle, and that’s when he’d stepped in, smoothing over the awkwardness and using his own kind of pressure to get the documents signed. So when he bid the group goodnight in the huge stone entry of the villa, Roper put an avuncular hand on his shoulder, "You did well today, Pine. Very well." From then it was a modest smile and shrug and he was on his way to their guest suite. He'd seen Roper's flat, lizard stare too many times that day. Even he deserved a break. Which was why his footsteps could have been considered hasty as he reached their door. 

And his Sirène was there, rising from a big chair near the open doors of the terrace. “Hello, little one,” he purred, and she smiled demurely.

“Hi Daddy, how was your day?”

He didn’t tell her, of course, but Jonathan enjoyed the little courtesy from Sirène, pleased that she was behaving so well, and so quickly.  _‘Because you’re the only thing keeping her alive,_ ’ a grim thought in a spiteful voice that sounded remarkably like his ex-wife’s.

“It was fine,” Jonathan answered blandly, “have you had dinner?” Her face fell a little and he tilted her chin, “What happened?”

“Nothing Daddy, really. It was just Danny and me and uh, Mr. Roper’s friend. It wasn’t great but it was quick.” She attempted a weak smile.

His long fingers spread out, caressing idly along her jaw, stroking down her throat. “What was, ah, not great, darling?” She stilled, like a rabbit waiting to see which way the wind was blowing. 

"She waited 'till Danny wasn't at the table and told me you'd get sick of me soon." She swallowed against his hand, his fingers not tight yet. 

"Really... and what else was discussed?" His index and middle fingers pressed lightly on the throbbing pulse on the side of her neck. He had to believe she was clever enough not infuriate Jed, but then, he'd thought she knew better with Corky, too.

She sighed. "I told her that you'd never be suicidal enough to pay attention to her." Jonathan's hand convulsively tightened, then released immediately. 

"That wasn't a wise choice, now was it, little girl?"

Her eyes were huge, pleading. "It was the truth, and it stopped her from saying anything else."

Pulling in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Jonathan nodded. "It was bound to happen at some point. Perhaps now it's out of her system and she won't hate you as much." She looked doubtful at that but nodded obediently. Being back at the villa, seeing her sweet face... all the stress of the day dissolved and he began to feel... playful? It wasn't a characterization he'd ever used for himself - never after Egypt - but now he was enjoying the slightly apprehensive expression on his pet's face and a desire to draw it out. "Then let's have a late dinner here."

After ordering, the staff members spread a lavish amount of food over the table in the main room and left. Jonathan locked the door and smiled darkly. His alert little girl saw it he knew, because her eyes widened. Seating himself as the head of the table, he casually poured a glass of a rather impressive Lucien Le Moine Chevalier Montrachet, admiring the color of the vintage as he held it to the light. "Come here, little one." 

Sirène did, like the good girl she was, but linking her fingers together and smiling a little anxiously. She was wearing the pretty green sundress he’d laid out for her, which meant she would be wearing the white lace and silk underwear he’d dressed her in that morning. He remembered sliding them up her silky thighs and Jonathan groaned inwardly. Putting his hands on her hips, he drew up the fabric of the skirt, smiling to see a peek of those sweet white knickers. “Lovely…” he murmured, putting his thumbs under the fabric and beginning to draw it down. Her hands went to his shoulders awkwardly, not sure where to place them. Jonathan was so close to her warmth that he ran his nose against her stomach, feeling the heat of her, enjoying the first tantalizing scent of her arousal. Helping her out of her undies, one foot, then the other, he drew her to stand in front of him, between his chair and the table. He heard her sudden hiss of air as he unzipped those expensive, custom-made trousers Roper had paid for. 

"Straddle me."

It took her a moment, but when she understood what he meant, his little girl blushed, spreading up her neck and painting her cheeks a deep crimson. He took her hips, helping her settle, open and hovering over his cock, already hard- god, it had been hard from the minute he'd headed down the hall to their suite, to her. "Are you my good girl?" Jonathan purred, mouth so close to her open one.

"Yes, Daddy?" 

It came out as more of a question, but he understood. "I need you to do something for me, darling. I need you to keep my cock warm while we eat." Pine enjoyed the audible gulp from her pink lips

"What- how do I do that, Daddy?" Her entire form was flushed now, her embarrassment painfully obvious.

Hands sliding to the globes of her bottom, Jonathan squeezed them as he lifted her over his cock, teasing her entrance. She wasn't wet enough yet, so still keeping her gaze, he lifted his thumb to his mouth, wetting it and beginning to stroke it over her clitoris. "Let Daddy help you be ready to take me," he said, a grin just short of rakish spreading across his face. "So lovely, with your tight little cunt..." his voice was pure sin, he lowered it, made it deeper as he heard her breathing speed up. "There we go," he approved, "such a good girl, getting wet for your Daddy." She made the smallest squeak, but Jonathan felt a light coat of her slick make his thumb slip and slide between her passage and the tender button he'd been circling. Her grip on his shoulders was tightening, but her gaze stayed on him. When he felt she was wet enough, Jonathan began sliding into her, groaning a bit as the tip of his cock breached her opening. It took every ounce of self-control to go slowly, and Sirène was moaning by the time he was buried completely inside her. Her teeth were caught in her lower lip and he wasn't certain she knew she was making those pretty little sounds. Rotating her slightly by her hips, Jonathan took in a deep breath.

"Sweet, lovely girl," he approved. "Now we'll have dinner." He almost laughed as her eyes went wide.

"But..."

"You're keeping my cock warm, lovely," Jonathan rotated her hips again, just to hear her moan as he rubbed against all her secret spots, those places that flared into life when stretched against his girth. And then he put the wine glass to her lips. "Drink, baby."

It took an insurmountable amount of time, but Jonathan kept hard through hand feeding her bites of the tender flamiche, the Nicoise salad, and then, most unfairly a perfect little ramekin of chocolate soufflé. Every now and then, he would slowly slide out of her, just a few inches at a time. He could feel the soft flutter of her walls around him, instinctively tightening against his shaft. By the time he'd fed her the last spoonful of the soufflé and licked the smear of chocolate from her lips, his sweet girl was breathing harder, a thin sheen of sweat on her neck and breasts. 

"Now then..." Jonathan drew out the words, enjoying her breathy little shriek as he stood, still connected deeply inside her. His girl's legs wrapped around him with an impressive strength, clearly alarmed at being carried across the room attached to him in such a fashion. Seating himself - and her - with a thump, he smiled pleasantly, pulling out a folder of papers from his briefcase. "There are just a few documents I must go over, darling, before I can turn my attention to your luscious kitty." She looked like she was about to cry. Kissing her downturned lips, Jonathan soothed, "Warm my cock just a bit longer, my sweet Sirène, and I shall devote myself to making you come until you pass out."

 

You were going to scream. Or cry. Or punch Jonathan clean in the mouth. One of those things, because the muscles in your thighs had been trembling for the last 20 minutes or so as he casually surveyed the paperwork between you and him. You knew you'd gotten his expensive dress pants all wet and you were spitefully happy about it. Because Jonathan nee' Daddy Pine was torturing you. He was a horrible, nasty man and you hated his fucking guts. His eyes were steadily scanning the papers, as if he didn't notice that his hand was squeezing your ass, using his grip to move you subtly up and down, sometimes sideways or back and forth. His cock stayed relentlessly hard in you, and every time your clit rubbed against the hairy base of him you gave a rapturous little shudder. An unwilling shudder.

Your world had shrunk down to the feel of his hard chest against yours, his even breathing making him rub against your painfully sensitive breasts, covered by a thin layer of silk. The smell of his cologne, and crisp cotton, and something undefinable about him that smelled like how warmth felt. You could hear the soft crinkle of the paper as he turned to another page in the report.

 

“Pl-”

You froze in horror. If your legs weren’t like jelly and you even had the strength to lift yourself off his lengthy cock, there was no way you could outrun him. Would Jonathan punish you? But you didn’t even finish the word! His piercing eyes shot up to look at you sternly, and your lip trembled. Without even knowing why, your eyes filled and you gave a pathetic sniffle.

“My poor darling,” Jonathan soothed, “you’ve been my good, patient girl for-” he consulted his watch, “goodness, for over an hour. Daddy will take care of you now.” And suddenly, you were on your back on the comfortable cushions and he was looming over you. Jonathan pulled that weighty cock out slowly, carefully. And then slammed it back into you.

 “OH!” You were vaguely aware of how you were gasping and moaning, clinging to him as the only anchor as Jonathan simply pounded into you. Not careful but greedy, as if the last hour of being his cock-warmer was agonizing for him, too. He was pushing so hard he pressed painfully against the top of you as if his shaft wanted to carve out a deeper path inside your passage. He was smiling as those agile hips shoved and pushed against you, his mouth on one breast as his fingers deftly plucked at the other. He rose up on his knees, lifting your hips with him to stay buried in you, looking down with satisfaction to see how wet you were. The sting and stretch of his girth inside you didn’t fade, he was fucking you too fast. But he was angling his hips to circle inside you, find that painfully sensitive spot at the top of you, farther than anyone had reached before. The spot your dark Daddy knew would make you come screaming if he rubbed against it. The heat and hardness of his shaft found the spot and you gasped, back arching and every muscle string tight enough to snap like a rubber band.

“There’s my lovely girl,” Jonathan praised you, “my perfect mermaid. You may come now. I want you to soak my cock. Come, lovely.” 

And with one more vicious thrust from him, you did.


	11. Run Like the Devil is After You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you make a terrible, terrible mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The diabolical GingerAngelica added in another chapter request for this story, which is dedicated to her. Hope you like it, honey...

 

It had been years, but you used to be a star on your track team in high school. The starter pistol would give you that perfect moment where, if you could move fast enough, you would surely outrun the possibility of ever having to see your parents again. That your strong legs could carry you into a place where mothers and fathers didn't scream and throw bottles of vodka. A place where you controlled your own destiny. The end of the race always brought you back to reality, but for a few magical minutes, you were free.

The dense foliage underneath your sandals made them slip and slide, forcing you to readjust your stride and sometimes change direction to avoid a thicket of palms and shrubs you couldn't plow through. But you could see the winding golden stone of the driveway approaching the mansion and the two long, black cars just about to turn and leave the compound. You desperately sucked down more of that thick, humid island air and dug your heels in. If you didn't get to that limo before it turned on to the main parkway, you were dead.

 

It started earlier when another uncomfortable meal with Mr. Roper and Co. was nearly finished. 

"Pine, we have an important guest this afternoon- a bit of a waste of time, I'm afraid-" Roper wore the rueful expression of a man burdened with too many admirers. "But I worked with the Ambassador on one of the Sierra Leone famine cases, and he wants to drop by."

"Of course," Pine answered easily, his hand tightening just slightly on the curve of his girl’s waist. "I'll be right back."

Roper waved his hand in an expansive way, "Do get your little one settled and be back soon." His flat, pale eyes settled on Sirène, and he chuckled indulgently. "No more Minecraft with Danny, little miss! You've both had too much screen time today."

Jonathan could feel his girl barely control her shudder, but she nodded politely and murmured, "Of course, Mr. Roper. Sorry about that." Before the acutely uncomfortable exchange could continue, he slid his arm around her waist and ushered her quickly out of the room. 

 

Safe behind the tall double doors of their suite, Jonathan lifted his girl’s chin, eyeing her vaguely nauseated expression. 

“What?”

“He…” she hesitated, frowning, “he sees me as the same age as Danny. But he’s still… you know, a little…” The girl shuddered and Jonathan kissed her temple.

“Nothing for you to worry about, darling. Daddy takes care of you. Now then,” taking her hand, he led her to their bedroom, “why don’t you relax and take a nap? You may watch some TV or listen to music if it helps you get sleepy.” He could feel her resistance, but his good girl simply nodded politely and took off her sandals. Watching her crawl up on the bed and get comfortable, Pine waited until she looked up at him again. 

“You do not-” he paused and her eyes widened at his tone, _“do not_ leave this room. Under any circumstances. Is this in any way unclear?”

“N- no, Daddy,” she whispered.

Kissing her, lingering over the softness of her mouth, the faint taste of her fear, Jonathan stood and smiled. “That’s my good girl.” As he shut and locked the bedroom door, he exhaled. Sirène was his good little girl. She would do as she was told. 

 

What Pine failed to take into account was that his good little girl’s sharp ears had caught the tail end of a conversation between Sandy and another man. The Ambassador about to descend on the compound was actually the Ambassador to the Seychelles Islands. The United States Ambassador, to be specific. And surely, no matter what Roper’s reach, the U.S. Ambassador would protect one of his own? 

Your heart had been pounding furiously from the moment you’d heard “U.S. Ambassador,” so heavily you were sure your preternaturally alert Daddy could hear it. But after a tender kiss and what you knew was a dire warning, Jonathan left you in the bedroom. Your heart sank a little when you heard the “click!” of the lock, but it wasn’t going to stop you.  Just the thought that without birth control you could be pregnant with Jonathan’s child already was so terrifying that you had no choice. You had to get out of here. You _had to._

Waiting for the soft sound of the suite doors closing, you let out the breath you’d been holding, feeling a little dizzy. Searching briefly through the clothes that Jonathan had brought for you, you growled in frustration. Nothing but pretty skirts and sundresses, nothing substantial like running shoes that would help you move faster.

Moving swiftly over to the balcony, you eyed the drop to the beach below. It was significant, and if you slipped, you’d be killed or so badly damaged that they’d likely just put you out of your misery. Gaze moving over to the infinity pool where your Daddy had given you such luxurious orgasms… your brow lifted. The drop was different there because of the catch basin that recirculated the water from the pool. If you could angle to the left far enough, you could grab on to one of the bigger rocks. Just wiggling through the complicated plexiglass shield for the pool and out to where the rocks began would take you much, much longer than you planned. And you still had a rock wall to climb and at least half a mile of the jungle to run through to circle around the main house.

Wiping your sweaty palms on your pretty dress, you took a deep breath. You could do this. There was one moment when your wet sandal slipped and for a terrifying second or two, you were dangling over a 40-foot drop. But then your frantically searching foot found the rock and you pulled yourself over. Looking over the rocky outcropping that led to dense undergrowth and then to the paved road, your lips moved in your old mantra, the one your coach used before every race. 

“Run like the devil is after you.”

The group of men followed Roper and Pine as they escorted the U.S. Ambassador back to his car. The Ambassador was a politician by nature. He made sure to get several flattering photos taken of himself with Roper, though he noticed the Pine fellow - the new favorite - dipped his head in every shot, obscuring his face. No matter, it was the billionaire philanthropist he was here to see, to take pictures that showed he was Getting Things Done, with People Who Mattered. So, his excellent Scotch was enjoyed and hands shaken, and it was time to get back to his pretty mistress. His wife was still shopping on the other side of the island, and the Ambassador was looking forward to doing all the things to the local girl he was supporting financially that his wife would never tolerate. His limo pulled out first, followed by his security detail.

“What was the point of that?” Pine murmured, a smile still in place as they waved goodbye.

Roper sneered as the limo rounded the bend of the driveway. “Arse kissing. Nothing more. Now then, we should discuss the-”

And then the almost gleeful tone of Corky interrupted them. “And what exactly is THAT?” He began giggling in an excitable way that made Jonathan want to shoot him. “Why, it’s your sweet little girl, and she’s on the run. I see your hold isn’t as strong as you thought?”

“Never mind that,” snarled Roper, “she’s heading for the road. If the Ambassador stops for her…”

Corky was already pulling his gun, jerking his head at Tabby, who was doing the same. “Finish her,” he hissed.

Pine felt like his blood was on fire, a combination of fury and fear that made him wonder why his skin wasn’t melting off. “Oh, no. She is mine. And I do so enjoy a good hunt.” Pulling a vicious-looking switchblade from his pocket, he flicked it open and spun it on his palm. “I will take care of this.” His eyes were trained on his pet’s progression through the thick foliage, but Jonathan could feel Roper’s insectile gaze on him. 

“You’d better,” was all he said as he turned and walked back inside.

Pine was off like a shot, his long legs furiously eating up the ground between him and his stupid, reckless girl. Blue eyes darted back and forth, measuring her angle and distance to the road and pacing his trajectory to cross her own path first. Behind him, Corky, still clutching his gun was getting into a car and racing for the end of the driveway. If he reached her first… Jonathan pushed his legs harder, putting on a burst of speed. The heated blood was pulsing frantically through his veins. If that idiot Corky killed her, it would be his fault. 

His legs became a blur. _Keep her alive._

 

Your eyes were fixed on the prize, those two black cars that symbolized your salvation. You could get out of here. You would be safe. Your hands were fisted tightly and every muscle in your body was thrumming with the desperation to get to the road. So much that it took a minute to hear the sound of someone crashing through the underbrush. A quick glance over your shoulder made you shriek and push yourself harder.

Pine was after you, his eyes blazing with fury. You were dead. He would fucking kill you. He would let Corky cut you into pieces, he would sell you into one of those brothels they threatened you with- oh god! “Move!” you hissed to yourself, “Fucking move or die!”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see one of the estate cars heading rapidly for the roadway, trying to cut you off from there. You didn’t slow down - not for a second - but you desperately calculated your odds. What direction? Could you get past the car? Would Jonathan-

“AH!!”

You were knocked off your feet and sent rolling down the hill, not so steep yet but enough to send you crashing over rocks and a really painful spiky, thorny kind of bush.

“Get OFF me! Let me go, you bastard! Let me-” With a vicious tap to the thin skin over your temple, you were out.

 

Waking up was a mistake, you decided, trying desperately not to vomit down Jonathan’s back. He was carrying you slung over his shoulder, your head bobbing painfully back and forth as he strode furiously through the courtyard. No one said a word, not even that twisted fuck Corky. Oh, your head hurt so bad…

When you were close to your suite, yours and Jonathan’s, you managed a weak, “Daddy? I’m-”

He shook your upside-down form viciously, making you moan in pain. “If you speak again, I will cut your tongue out.”

Tears started dripping down your forehead, stinging your eyes and making your nose run. You became well and truly frightened when he strode past the door of your rooms. Where was he taking you? Oh, god…

Jonathan flung open a door and flipped a light that shone on a steep flight of stairs heading downwards. You could feel the air cooling as he descended and the faint sound of the ocean. He tightened his grip on your thighs and you realized you were shaking so hard that you almost slipped off his shoulder. The walls were stone here and he flung open another door leading to a tiny room. There was a single light bulb, a nasty-looking toilet, and a little sink.

“OOF!” He’d dropped you on the floor, a puff of dust rose up from the impact, the rock floor scraping your knees.

Jonathan was already heading for the door, and you swallowed your tears. “D-d-daddy, please! I’m sorry! Please don’t-”

But by then, he’d slammed the door shut without looking back at you, and you cried harder when a key turned in the lock. The single light flickered and went out, leaving you alone and sobbing in the dark.

 

 


	12. Twelve Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our girl is much tougher than expected. And there are no more second chances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of amazing feedback on the last chapter, for which I thank you. There's a current of worry through almost everyone, it seems that Jonathan will not be able to keep this girl alive if things continue as they are. And if he does tame her into his good little girl, what's left of Sirene to save? All clever, intelligent insights. You have no idea how much I pick up from what you think.

 You kept crying in that pitch-black room until your eyes were nearly swollen shut. You felt the despair like a punch in the abdomen, that you would never get away from here, you would never get free of these people.  But poking insistently at your conscience was the image of Jonathon right before he tackled you - there was fury, of course. But there was also betrayal in his expression, possibly even hurt. You'd never seen him so unguarded not even during your most intimate moments. Hurt? You angrily wiped your eyes with the back of your hands. How dare he be hurt! You raged silently. How dare he feel betrayed? If he was in your position he would do exactly the same thing. You had nothing to feel guilty for. You tried to hold onto the heat of your rage as your teeth started chattering. Terror was cold. Terror was freezing. What was going to happen to you now? Even if Jonathon wanted to keep you alive, would Mr. Roper let him?  Would you be dead tomorrow or strapped to a bed in some whorehouse the way Corky so enthusiastically threatened? You'd rather be dead. Keeping your shaking hands between your thighs, you squeezed them firmly together. "Go back to angry," you whispered into the room. "Stay angry." 

For the first few hours in the dark, you assumed it was to keep you terrified while Jonathan decided your fate - or was told what it would be by Mr. Roper. You’d stood up, wincing at your skinned and bruised knees and walked the perimeter of the room, your fingertips lightly brushing along the damp wall. You counted your steps, forcing yourself to go around twice. Counting helped settle your racing mind, giving it something to do. You took some deep breaths, wondering how long it had been. Keeping time was never your strong suit, you couldn't count the times you'd become immersed in a project and then looked up to see the sky gone dark, everyone around you having already gone home.

When your knees hurt too much to make another circuit of the room, you carefully sat down on the floor again, your back against the wall. “Who the fuck,” you whispered, “has a cell in their basement? This isn’t even his villa!” You giggled a little hysterically. Was there a special Airbnb system for crime lords? One where cells or torture chambers cost extra? Like, imagine what the cleaning fee would be? Slapping your hands over your mouth, you tried to stifle your laughter. No reason to let them think they’d driven you insane. Not already, anyway.

Finally falling asleep still sitting up, you jerked and moaned as an old nightmare made its appearance. It had been a long time… You were sitting in the closet in the hallway of your old home. It was your parent’s go-to space when they punished you for something. It was dark in there, just a sliver of light from under the door, the closet redolent with dust and the smell of old winter coats. You could still hear the shouting and crying on the other side of the door, and you curled up, making yourself into a little ball. When you wrapped one of the woolen scarves around your head, you just had blessed silence. The thing your parents never figured out - because you were careful to scream and cry and struggle when they shoved you into the closet - was that you preferred your little prison. It meant you were out of the line of fire. It could be quiet there. You could think. You could dream about new languages, hum bits of your favorite songs, and plan for the day you would travel the world. You'd see everything, and-

The tears came again as you woke up. Yep, you were seeing the world! If you counted a prison cell in the Seychelles Islands.

 

Jonathan ignored all the ridicule and vitriol from Corky, the plaintive accusations from Sandy, he was focused only on Roper's reaction to his pet's fall from grace. Which was alarmingly minimal. He'd only stared at him when Jonathan returned to report she'd been caught and contained. 

"I will address her misbehavior," he'd said coldly, "it will not happen again. After all..." Jonathan subtly reminded Roper he'd been the one to "saddle" him with the girl, "I would not wish you to think I was unappreciative of your gift. This is not unusual at this stage in training."

The other man had grunted irritably, and Jonathan left his office.

Walking briskly along the hallway, tray in hand, he consulted his watch. It was exactly 24 hours since he'd thrown Sirène in that chilly little room. He'd searched the villa thoroughly when Roper indicated they would be staying there for a while. He wanted to make sure he knew exactly where everything was, every blind spot, every weak point. He'd found the stone cellar room on his first sweep. Eyeing the grim toilet and sink, he was quite clear what it was used for. So when he'd caught the girl and dragged her back, still kicking and fighting him, he knew right where he was going to put her. 

It was easy enough to run a camera on a wire under the door, so he could monitor her via an app on his phone. She’d paced for a while, cried quite a bit. Jonathan could feel a twinge in his chest as she wept. His girl must be terrified, awaiting the worst. 

Unfortunately, that was exactly how he needed her to be. So when he opened the door to her cell, it was just wide enough to shove in the tray, holding a microwaved meal and a bottle of water.

“Daddy?”

He growled under his breath as his chest twinged again. Her voice was so small. Nonetheless, he slammed the door shut again, making sure she could hear the lock click. He flipped on the light to the room, and gritting his teeth, forced himself to walk back up the stairs.

 

You'd scooted to the corner of the room when you heard the footsteps approach, the corner that would let you see whoever came in before they could see you. Your breath caught in your throat when it was Jonathan, his beautiful face still set in cold, forbidding lines. You didn't care- at least he was here? But his tall form bent, plopping a tray on the floor with a clatter, then leaving without looking at you. The light came on in the room just as he shut the door, and you breathed in gratitude. You didn't mind the dark - not like most people - but it would be good to see what you were eating, maybe wash yourself a little. There were still twigs and some leaves in your hair and a cut on one foot where that thorny bush jabbed your heel.

Picking up the lukewarm tray, you saw it was some kind of pasta - a congealed sauce and a green vegetable you didn’t recognize. Realizing he hadn’t left you a fork or a spoon, you shrugged and started eating the pasta with your fingers. It would take a lot more than this to break you.

When the lights abruptly shut off several hours later, you groaned, trying to settle in your stone corner again. The dark was restful. It gave you time to think. 

The routine went on for several days, according to your little scratches on the wall based on lights on and off, you were guessing six days. You paced the perimeter of the room again, reciting phrases in the four tones in Mandarin. Was he trying to make you insane? So you wouldn’t care what they did to you? Brainwash you probably. Isolation until you were so desperate you would do anything. You would take the blame and beg for forgiveness. You would never dare make a move again for fear of ending up in this room.

You sighed. “Blah, blah, blah…”

When you were trying to come to terms with the way you were raised, a compassionate therapist had recommended reading some of the works from those who survived this kind of imprisonment. “Hussain Al-Shahristani, for instance,” you mumbled, careful to keep your voice low. “Saddam Hussein’s chief nuclear advisor until he refused to build an atomic weapon…” You began another circuit of the room. Your fingertips were red welts, a few bloody from the constant friction. “Ten years in solitary! Ten years! This is six days. Suck it up.”

 

 

Jonathan found himself watching her on his phone more and more, jaw tight and seconds from breaking down and racing down to open the door and get his girl out. He managed to get in contact again with Angela again via a coded transfer:

 

"G _irl attempted escape. Her situation dire. Needs extraction now.”_

Angela’s response was terse.

_“Cannot. Keep her safe if you can. Do not compromise position.”_

 

Every day was the same, Jonathan - no one else - would drop off a bowl of something in the morning. In the evening, an hour or so before lights out, he returned with another microwaved meal. He never looked at you, never spoke, face set in those cold lines. You "broke" on the eighth day. It was planned- you'd waited long enough to make it look like you were truly losing yourself.

"D- daddy? Please? Please look at me? I'm so sorry truly I really-" 

Jonathan shut the door without a glance in your direction. When you burst into tears, it was as much real as part of your act. The next day, you were walking the four corners of the room again, reciting conjunctive adverbs in French when the door suddenly opened. You hadn't heard anyone coming and you pressed yourself against the wall, hands shaking.

This time a blonde head peeked through the doorway and your heart sank. 

Fucking Jed.

She stepped in cautiously, lifting her feet as if to avoid soiling her Gucci Marmont suede fringe sliders. “I thought it was a joke,” Jed mused, looking around the room, then at you. An expression of distaste wrinkled her pretty face. “Richard asked how you were doing in solitary last night, the men all laughed - including Jonathan,” she added spitefully.

You just watched her, pressed into your wall as if the stone could absorb you. Jed was standing in a way that it would require shoving her aside to get out. Not that you were stupid enough to try. This had the stink of Corky all over it.

Jed glared at you, irritated by your lack of response. "Did he cut out your tongue, too?"

Clearing your throat, you mumbled, "No."

Her beautifully manicured fingernails were tapping irritably on the doorway. "Then say something you little idiot. You've been in here for eleven days."

You frowned. That long?

"Don't you want to beg me to get you out of here?" Jed prodded.

You looked at her thoughtfully, she wasn't enjoying this as much as she thought she was going to. Her eyes were darting back-and-forth, and finally, you asked, "Did you know?"

"What?" Jed snapped.

"About- about him. Mr. Roper." you interrupted. "Did you know when you made your arrangement?"

"When we fell in love!" she hissed.

You nodded politely. "Did you know?"

Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times as she stared at you.

Your back was hurting, so you cautiously stretched it. “That must be so scary, knowing… all this and still holding up the ‘young and in love girlfriend’ role. You’re stronger than I thought.”

Jed still hadn’t said anything, but there was a suspicious glitter in her blue eyes. Abruptly, she whirled and left the room, slamming the door behind her. You listened carefully as her heels clacked angrily down the hallway. 

Mr. Roper’s devoted girlfriend hadn’t locked the door to your cell. And when Jonathan came back, he would see his pet sitting obediently in her cage.

 

 

it was the following morning when her timid, tearful inquiries made Jonathan pause as he held a bowl of something that looked oatmeal-ish. His polar gaze finally settled on Sirene, who was kneeling on her skinned knees, looking up at him with those huge, pretty eyes. He felt a fist twist in his gut as she stammered out her apologies again.

”...I was so scared, I’m sorry, Daddy! Please, I’ll never run again, I’ll never-“ his sweet girl was almost choking on her sobs and he sighed.

Bending down, Jonathan gently took her by her upper arms, lifting her from the floor. “Hush, baby, shhhh...” his voice was so kind, his deepest and most soothing, and he watched her shudder in relief. Bending slightly, he picked her up and carried her up to their suite. Sirene buried her face in his neck, not wanting to see the housekeeper, the maids staring at them. Walking through their rooms to the palatial bathroom, he set her down on the little window seat as he started the bath. Her head was lowered, one hand touching her greasy hair. “Now sweetheart, don’t worry. A bath, some good food, and I’ll brush your hair and put you to bed.”

She was obviously building up the nerve to speak. Pulling her upright, Jonathan stripped off her dress, stopping to kiss her soothingly when she cringed. Cupping her dirty face in his warm hands, his mouth moved over hers again. God, he’d missed this...

”Me, too Daddy.” It was barely a whisper from her but he realized he’d said his thoughts out loud. 

Jonathan kissed her again, leisurely sliding his tongue over her lips. “The feel of your lips, little one. The taste of you...” He finished removing her underwear and lifted her into the tub. Swiftly stripping himself, he slid in behind her. She leaned back against him, her breath hitching and she started to cry.

”I’m really sorry Daddy. Is Mr. Roper going to kill me?”

Jonathan ran one arm under her breasts, the other over her shoulders, cradling his girl. “You were a very, very bad girl.” Her sobs shook her body against him. 

“I’m sorry, please Daddy I’m really sorry and-“

Pouring shampoo into his palms, he began stroking it into her hair. “Why did you do it, baby? Haven’t I kept you safe?” He flinched to hear genuine hurt in his voice. 

Sirene twisted restlessly, unknowingly rubbing her ass against his rapidly stiffening cock. “It... I thought if I could get to the Ambassador and he could... get me home?”

Lifting her easily and settling her back on his muscled thighs, he put his hand under her chin. She was looking everywhere but at him and shaking a little, even in the warm water. “Why now? We’ve been doing so well.” 

Now, his sweet girl was looking up at him. “I’m scared- I don’t want to get pregnant, I can’t- it would be-” She was trying to stop crying and not doing very well.

Frowning, Jonathan pushed back the wet hair from her forehead. “What on earth would make you think I would allow you to become pregnant?”

“You’re n-not using anything, and I’m not on any kind of contraceptive either.”

 

 

He was silent for a moment. Your beautiful, terrifying Daddy. His stern gaze was back and his fingers slid up over your throat, lightly cupping it. “Is it still sore here, darling?” His finger flicked the injection site he’d pointed out that first day in the shower. 

You flinched, which was pretty much the answer, but you nodded. “Yes, Daddy?”

Jonathan finished bathing you, rinsing the shampoo from your hair and lifting you. Drying you with one of the big, soft towels, he pulled you in front of a mirror, standing behind your nude form and rubbing the terrycloth over your breasts. “The injection site,” he finally said, “was for a fast-acting contraceptive shot. The flesh-peddlers inject their victims when taken. Very few buyers want breeders right away.” You tried to look down, face flushed with humiliation, but he forced you to meet his gaze behind you in the mirror. “If you don’t tell me your worries, little one, I can’t help you.” His jaw tightened and he looked like he was controlling his temper. “I can only keep you safe if you trust me. And if it takes keeping you in that cell, I will do it. Do you understand?” 

You were still a little giddy with relief about your non-existent pregnancy. “Yes, Daddy. I understand, I’m sorry. Please don’t put me back in there, I won’t do anything- I’ll be good, I swear.”

Jonathan seemed to be struggling with what he wanted to say. “Sirene. I want you to listen to me very carefully. If anything else happens- if you disobey me in any way- There is… there is no second chance.” 

This time, you were truly, genuinely terrified. “I’m sorry Daddy. Never again.”

He took his time smoothing lotion over your skin, gently treating your scraped knees and hands, making concerned noises and kissing the tip of each finger. After wrapping you in his own robe, Jonathan insisted on feeding you by hand, lifting a glass of wine to your lips and wiping your mouth with a napkin. And when you were full, he lifted you up slightly, toying with your lips and sliding a slickened finger up and down... touching your entrance and dipping inside with one thick finger, then sliding it back up to circle your clit. You forgot that you hated him, that you wanted to get away from your Daddy when he finally lifted you and began sliding you slowly down his cock. "Slowly, little one. My god, you're as tight as the first time I took you, so snug." He groaned a little and you were stunned, this cold, contained man seemingly undone by someone like you. "So warm inside you. I can feel your back arch, lovely, are you rubbing that greedy little clit against me? Trying to take your orgasm without permission?"

It's like you'd forgotten how to think in that cell. "Uh... oh, god, Daddy! I can feel you everywhere." It was true, every inch of him rubbed against sensitive tissue, tender nerve endings and pushed everything apart inside you to spear deeper. You'd missed this feeling, you were half-insane with wanting it, forgetting what he’d done to you, forgetting your time in the cell and just needing more of him now. But Jonathan cruelly slowed his pace inside you, sliding leisurely, stroking your cleft with one thumb. Your legs were shaking by the time he finally began pulling out, then slamming back into you, gripping your bottom to push and move you where he wanted you.

“Will you ever disobey Daddy again?” he purred into your ear.

“No Daddy, I swear!” You were moaning, willing to promise anything if he’d just let you come. And with a low, dark chuckle, Jonathan angled your hips differently, pressing his cock hard against the front of your channel and rotating his thumb in hard, deep circles until you unknowingly dug your nails into his shoulders to hang on and came, feeling his growl against your chest as he did the same. 

 

 

She was so tired she could barely move, hardly keep her eyes open, so Jonathan gently cleaned his little one up and slipping soft cotton undies up her legs and tucking her into bed. “Sleep now,” he whispered, “my good, sweet girl.”

By the time he returned from the bathroom, Sirene was out cold. He smiled slightly and poured himself a drink, sitting in one of the comfortable lounge chairs on their balcony to enjoy it. Picking up his phone and flicking through the images, he pushed play. It was the surveillance video from when Jed had attempted to frighten his girl. Perhaps if the light hadn’t been at the just the right angle, but it was, and when his innocent Sirene tried the door handle and found it unlocked, she’d smiled secretively and backed away, seating herself again.

That was not the face that matched her wretched, desperate sobs this morning, her pleas to release her.

There was quite a bit more to his innocent little girl than he'd thought.

 


	13. Lunch With The Freak Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sirene discovers not everyone is as forgiving as Jonathan is.

 

But the next day, not everyone was as willing to forgive you as Jonathan. Not that you were surprised. In fact, you'd woken up in the middle of the night and stared out the huge windows at the surf, holding still under the grip of his heavy arm over your waist and his big hand securely holding your breast. How far could your scary new Daddy protect you from Mr. Roper's wrath? You suspected one of the reasons for your solitary confinement was keeping you out of the monster’s malignant gaze until his fury at your attempt receded. But Mr. Roper didn’t look like he forgot - or forgave - anything. And as strong and stern as Jonathan was, if his boss wanted to kill you, there would be no stopping it.

Lunch with the rest of the Freak Show brought your fears to a head. Nearly everyone was seated by the time Jonathan led you by the hand into the dining room.

“Ah, my boy,” Mr. Roper called. “I see the prodigal daughter has returned.”

You forced a smile with your frozen lips. That statement was creepy on so many levels. The meal was excruciating, you could barely force a bite between your clenched teeth, but the occasional warning squeeze on your thigh reminded you to try. You didn't want to stand out. You spent your time pretending you were invisible, that everyone's gaze would pass over you. You were amazed at Jonathan’s calm, casually conversing with the others, one hand on you while eating with the other, looking completely relaxed despite the odd energy at the table. You could feel it, the anticipation. 

They were all waiting for something.

Mr. Roper did not disappoint. It was as the dessert plates - a perfect passionfruit sorbet - were being cleared from the table when he spoke up. “Sirene. Come here.” Jonathan rose too, one hand at the small of your back. The flat, rattlesnake eyes of your host went to him briefly. “Not you, Jonathan. Just your girl.” You hid your shaking hands in the folds of your skirt as you looked down at him. He nodded once, but his mouth was a thin line. Your thoughts flew like frightened birds. He wouldn’t tell you to go if he thought Mr. Roper was going to kill you, right? He wouldn’t- 

“Look at me.”

Head raised, you looked into the monster's face. His expression made your heart feel like it was beating in reverse. Mr. Roper didn't look angry. He didn't show any emotion, really. He just looked you over as if you were a horse that lost the big race.

"It seems you haven't learned to listen to your Daddy, little miss."

"I'm v- very sorry, Mr. Roper. I made a terrible mistake. It will never happen again."

He waved his hand impatiently, “I didn’t give you permission to speak.” You nodded and pressed your lips together. “Frisky!” the monster called, “Come here.” 

Your breath hitched in your chest. _‘Just kill me,’_ you thought, _‘I’d rather that than sharing me. I would.’_ You didn’t dare look at Jonathan, not knowing if it was a loss of face for him if you seemed like you were asking for help. 

“Ah!” 

A huge hand came down on your face and you were knocked to the stone surface of the terrace. Swallowing the blood that spurted from your split lip, you looked up to see the asshole security drone grinning at you. He pulled you up by one arm, held you steady, and gleefully slammed the back of his hand on your opposite cheek. His grip kept you from falling again. You could distinctly hear Corky’s excited giggle and underneath it, so low that it was more of a vibration, a growl from Jonathan. 

Your hand went up to stem the flow of blood from your nose as Frisky - _‘What a stupid fucking name,’_ you thought distantly - dragged you closer to Mr. Roper, still seated casually, playing with an unlit cigar. The beefy son of a bitch dumped you on your knees and stepped back, still grinning. You were looking at a pair of exquisite Gucci Brixtons, and you waited to see if Mr. Roper intended to slam them into your face. To this point, you’d managed to keep silent, and you were proud of that. Fuck them. Instead, the toe of one loafer went under your chin and lifted it as he leaned down.

“If you ever move, speak or breathe without your Daddy’s permission or mine,” his voice was flat, no inflection, “I will sell you to an acquaintance of mine who makes snuff films.” You were shuddering, but you managed not to cry. “Do you know what a snuff film is, Sirene?” 

“Yes- yes, I think so, Mr. Roper.”

He suddenly leaned back, all business. “Good. Then you know what’s in store for you if you are naughty. You may return to your Daddy.” You braced your hands on the stone, trying to rise to your feet when he spoke again. “Ah-ah! You may crawl, little miss. And think on what you’ve done.”

For a moment, you could picture Danny’s sweet face and you were profoundly grateful he wasn’t here for this. You could only pray he never misbehaved with his father. Crawling back to Jonathan forced you to move past a gleeful Corky and Jed, whose head was carefully turned to avoid looking at you. ‘ _You should remember this, Jed,’_ you thought bitterly, _‘you don’t think this could be you next time?’_ Finally reaching Jonathan, you gasped as he quickly lifted you onto his lap, tucking your head into his shoulder.

"Has she atoned for her mistake, Richard?" Jonathan's beautiful voice was calm, but with a brittle edge that scraped across your nerves like ice.

Mr. Roper chuckled pleasantly. "She has."

"Then I'll be taking her back to our room. Good afternoon..." he paused, and you could feel his struggle to get the next word out, "...gentleman."

 

________________________________________

 

_'Your fault, you idiot. You were supposed to protect her, keep her alive.'_

Jonathan was putting his girl gently on the bed when she spoke up without permission. "It's not your fault." His sharp gaze made her hold her breath, but she stubbornly nodded her head. 

"Just sit here for a moment, darling. I'll get you cleaned up." She closed her eyes and he could feel her sag gratefully into the pillow as he carefully wiped the blood from her face, looking over her swollen lip. "That eye will be black by tomorrow morning," he observed. Tears began to slip from her closed lids and with a sigh, he picked her up and put her back on his lap, feeling her curl into him. "Shhh, sweet girl. It's done. I should have known-" his disgust and his fury rose, "-I should have known Roper would insist on his pound of flesh." When her arm went around his neck, it almost felt like she was comforting him. 

The sun was touching the edge of the sea when they finally rose from the bed, Jonathan taking her into the palatial bathroom and putting her in the tub. He poured a generous dollop of lavender body wash on a sponge, running it up her arm, wincing internally at the black, finger-shaped bruises already marring her skin. "We're leaving tomorrow," he finally said. She looked up at him, just waiting for him to continue. “To the Middle East. The desert.” Jonathan was proud of her, Sirene hadn’t melted down when they’d gotten back to the privacy of their suite. She’d accepted his comfort. And now, she was listening intently. The corner of his mouth lifted, even though the subject was deadly serious. “We will be in a military encampment, darling. It is likely you will be the only woman there.” Her brows drew together anxiously, but his girl nodded. “I would not have chosen this…” Jonathan’s soapy hand slid down one leg, and up the other. “But it is not safe to leave you here, or back in Italy. However…” his hands slid over her shoulders, tracing the fragile lines of her collarbones with his thumbs. “I know darling, from your confinement that you are capable of self-control, of wise choices. I will - I must trust you there to follow my rules to the letter - but I also believe you know how to use your survival skills, to be clever.” 

His lovely, soapy girl was utterly still now, watching him with wide eyes. Jonathan hummed for a moment, his long fingers circling her breasts. He could almost see her inner dialogue in thought balloons above her head. _‘What does he know? What did he see that makes him talk like this?’_ Let her wonder, his cunning little girl. Returning to the explanation, Jonathan lightly pinched her nipples, enjoying her little "Eeep!"

"I am not telling you something that you don't already know. We have enemies here. There will be more in the encampment. Your ability to watch and listen is important, darling." She was motionless under his stroking fingers, listening intently. Jonathan smiled as he moved the sponge to her back, knowing she couldn't see him. This was a fragile moment, he had to trust that this beautiful creature who'd quite literally landed in his lap understood what he was trying to say. He was showing he knew that she was more than she seemed. That her intelligence was valuable. It was the most open he could possibly be without actually telling her who he was. Rinsing her and setting aside the sponge, Jonathan lifted her from the tub, wrapping her in a swath of cotton. "Baby, do you understand what Daddy is telling you?"

Sirene's hands were clutching his shirt as she met his gaze, searching for something. She took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, Daddy."

 


	14. Straight, Like A Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you and Thomas travel to the ridiculously named "Camp Rekindle" in the middle of the desert. Because that is an unreasonably hopeful title for a camp where you know Roper has planned nothing but death. And Thomas has brought along ... accessories. Because the strain of being the only female in a camp full of murderous mercenaries isn't stressful enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sincerely sorry for the wait! Things will move much faster now that I've finished "The Reluctant Bride." I do have a new story with luscious time-traveling Loki, Dark!Steve and a girl named Traveller who can move through time to find that which is lost. You can find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20473676
> 
> Oh! My dear CursedCursingViking wrote a beautiful one-shot inspired by "The Reluctant Bride" called "For the First Time." It totally made me cry. https://archiveofourown.org/works/20516141

There was a heavy feeling in the jet this trip that made Sirène feel like she was choking. The relaxed atmosphere on the flight from Italy to the magical island they were leaving was gone. Mr. Roper was in an odd mood, one moment cold and terrifying, another genial, which was of course even more terrifying. But other than a chuckle and a heavy pat on her head, he ignored her, for which Jonathan knew she was deeply grateful.

"Darling, here's your music." Jonathan was handing her the old iPhone again and Sirène smiled up at him. There were fine lines of tension around his thin lips, but his expression was still calm and rather fond when he looked at her.

"Thank you, Daddy," she whispered, not wanting to spark another obnoxious laugh from Corky, who was preening because he'd been included on this trip. Since Jonathan arrived, Corky's inclusion on Roper's "business" trips had been sharply reduced.

Kissing her forehead, Pine whispered back. "You are most welcome, lovely. Be my good girl now and put on your headphones. I want it to be very clear that you are not listening to anything but your music, do you understand?"

And just like that, his face was cold and impassive again. "Of course, Daddy," Sirène agreed, nodding quickly as she put the earbuds in place, turning up the Foo Fighters a little louder than usual. But all the same, she heard his last words as he kissed a cheekbone.

"My good, sweet girl..." 

_____________________________________ 

 

As your nose pressed against the jet window, you wondered if you would ever get used to this - the amazing view exploding before you, another country you’d always dreamt of discovering. Just not like this. The waves of the desert rippled as far as you could see, the golden sand shimmering in the searing heat as the jet circled the camp underneath you. It looked like a standard military settlement, except for the UN Peacekeepers flag flying above the largest tent. Your stomach dropped. Bull. Fucking. Shit. There was nothing Mr. Roper did that had anything to do with peace. Seeing that innocent banner flying over whatever sick fuckery he planned somehow made this a thousand times worse.

“Welcome to Camp Rekindle.” The man had a Marine-type crewcut and straight spine bearing, but there was something about the half-grin he wore that was 100% mercenary. There was nothing hopeful here. You kept your mouth shut and your eyes down, following Jonathan a couple of steps behind him, to the right. 

‘Yeah, I couldn’t be any more submissive if I was wearing a burka,’ you thought cynically, avoiding the stares of the men around you.

Jonathan escorted you to to your tent, his hand resting heavily on your lower back. A local man was acting as your guide, glancing back at you curiously. "The... lady is staying with you, sir?"

Your eyes darted to his impassive face, eyes hidden behind his Raybans. 

"She is," Jonathan answered shortly, "and no one is to speak to her, speak about her, harass her. If they do, I will kill them." He looked around the camp, hand tightening on your spine. "Do spread the word."

"I see," the guide answered slowly, "of course." But as they passed another little group of local men, he made a comment and their expressions changed, ugly. Knowing. You could tell Jonathan was looking down at you to see if you'd understood them. But after he'd threatened to kill someone for looking at you, admitting that the asshole guide had told his buddies: _"He says the whore is not to be touched,"_ was hardly a calming gesture.

 

________________________________ 

 

He knew his girl has understood what the men said, even without the ugly laughter. When the man ushered them into a rather large tent, he offered them a nervous smile that Jonathan froze on the guide’s face with one seething glare. She’d been so quiet, his good girl, his Sirène. Jonathan enjoyed her subdued, demure behavior even more because he knew how much of it was an act. Not all. No matter what she’d rationalized, he knew how much she wanted to be his good girl. "I don't need to tell you that you must never leave this tent without me, do I?" He moved behind her, enjoying how Sirène froze like a rabbit. He was angry; angry and filled with a certain amount of recklessness. 

She cleared her throat. "No, daddy. I won't."

Sliding his hands down the smooth skin of her arms, Pine marveled idly to himself that this lovely creature - this sweet, beautiful girl belonged to him. So very clever, but his good, obedient girl again. His hands froze for a moment. _His? This girl wasn't his,_ Jonathan thought angrily. He was her protector. But at this moment, it felt like he was her daddy, that she willingly belonged to him. And Sirène, the little girl he'd created was his oasis of sanity in what was to come next. "You know, darling," he whispered devilishly, "these tents- just canvas, cloth, really." His mouth was sliding down the long line of her neck, and Pine let that reckless part of himself free again. He paused for a moment, enjoying her little shiver. “I must admit, little one, you can be quite… vocal in some of our more personal moments.” He felt the heat of her embarrassed flush and hid his grin in her hair, worn long and loose the way he loved it. “I know you wouldn’t want any of these men in this camp to be able to hear you, would you?”

“Oh, god no, daddy!” Sirène assured him, shuddering this time. 

“Then you must be very quiet, my little mermaid…” Jonathan’s voice had gone hoarse, lower, almost guttural and one of his hands slipped up into her hair, fisting it suddenly and yanking back, so her startled gaze met his. “Do you think you can be quiet while daddy sucks your clit into his mouth? Bites those delightfully swollen lips below and lips above?” She made a small, startled noise. He knew the change in their day was rather abrupt, but he could barely wait another moment to get his cock inside her. Everything centered down to her in those moments. He needed her- Shaking his head, Jonathan kissed her again as he slipped off her pretty dress, letting it fall to the dusty floor. He ran his hands along her sides, marveling at the feel of enclosing her rib cage in his fingers, moving them up to cup and encompass her breasts, sliding her pink nipples between two fingers and pulling them. 

"Oh! Ohhh... shhh..."  She sounded like she was trying to remind herself to be quiet and Jonathan chuckled again. "Have you chosen your safe word?" He was fighting his recklessness now, knowing that that side of him wanted to fuck her so vigorously that everyone in Roper's hell camp would hear his sweet girl come on his mouth, on his cock. Let every one of these bastards hear her scream into one orgasm after another. Let them hear who she belonged to-

With more of an effort than he expected, Pine pulled himself back, still stroking her breasts but murmuring in her ear. "What is your safe word? I believe it is time you had one."

"Um... I, uh..."

Jonathan his his grin against her neck. "Select a word you not often use."

"Coffee," she said instantly. He chuckled. She hated coffee, the taste, even the smell.

"Very good. You will use it or snap your fingers twice if you cannot continue, and I will stop immediately. Do you understand?"

She nodded, but he frowned. "What is Rule One?"

"I will answer if asked a question. Yes, i understand thank you."

"Excellent. Now then, good girls stay quiet, don't they? Good girls don't scream and moan." This time, poor Sirène actually cringed, knowing very well that she made all those noises and more before when he'd been inside her, though they both knew he was to blame for it. Leading her over to the center pole in the tent, Jonathan shook it experimentally. "Shall we see how sturdy the tent is, little one?" Her brows drew together but she obediently held out her arms, wrists together when he gestured for it. 

"Such a good girl..." he purred, pleased at her attentiveness to his signals. Rapidly knotting his belt around her wrists, he smiled down at her soothingly. "Now remember darling. Not a word. Not a whimper or a moan."

Pressing her lips together 'till they were white, she simply nodded.

 

_______________________________________ 

 

 _Oh, shit!_ You groaned internally, what was going on in that terrifying brain of his now? His mood was strange, angry at one point - though not at you, blessedly - but now he was wearing that strange smile, even though his eyes were still the blue of the Mediterranean, a color that meant you were safe with him. But then he whipped his belt off and had your crossed wrists bound snugly and he was pulling your arms over your head. 

 “On your tiptoes, darling.” 

That apparently gave him the last couple of inches to hook your wrists over a protruding eyebolt you’d not seen before. Still on tiptoes, you twisted, trying to watch him as Jonathan circled around you as he pulled off his expensive suit jacket, the hand-stitched linen shirt and then his pants. Apparently, your scary daddy had decided to go commando that day, an odd connection to all the military fatigue-wearing men in the camp that made you almost giggle before you swallowed it down, almost choking. He paused for a moment, eyeing you curiously.

“And what is making my sweet little girl giggle?”

It seemed like a lot to explain and you were still nervous about where this was going, so you shrugged. “Nothing, daddy,” you whispered, “just a little anxious I guess?” Your fears were not alleviated when he reached into the footlocker by the bed and pulled something out, holding it up with a dark smile.

“Do you know what this is, baby?”

Your eyes were like saucers. _This_ is what he packs to go into the desert? It was a riding crop, a warm brown color, a braided handle and that alarming tip of flat leather that looked like it could hurt. How would you keep quiet under _this?_ You moistened your dry lips, trying to turn at the waist again as he moved behind you, drawing the leather tip up the bare skin of your thigh. “I- it’s a riding crop, daddy,” you whispered.

The crop lifted slightly from your skin, then slapped down quickly. You tensed and yelped before you could stop it. 

“Did that hurt, sweetness?” His voice was at his lowest, most sinful tone, which made this all a thousand times more difficult. Your daddy was an evil man. A horrible-

“Ah!”

His big hand went over your mouth, and Pine tucked his chin into your neck. “Naughty girl,” he chastised, his amusement clear in his tone. “Must I gag you to keep you quiet?”

His fingers were tracing along your throat, so you knew he could feel you swallow heavily. “No, daddy. I’m sorry I’ll be good.”

The crop tapped you again, slightly harder and more alarmingly, higher up and closer to your pelvis. “I asked, does this hurt?”

You managed to shake your head. “N- no, daddy. It stings a little, that’s all.”

“What does it make you feel?” his lips moved along the thin skin of your neck as he watched that damnable crop’s circuit along your leg. 

“Um…” you closed your eyes and tried to concentrate. “It… tingles, I guess? I know where it’s been even though it didn’t hurt?”

You felt the hard muscles of his chest move against your back as Jonathan chuckled. “Exactly. Now, you must keep very still.” You froze, still as a statue as you heard the little “click!’ of a knife opening.

“D- daddy?”

The blade went to one side of your undies, and then the other, stripping them from you quickly. “Shhhh, little girl,” Jonathan whispered, making a wild spray of goosebumps rise on your arms and skin, even in the dull throb of heat from the sand outside. His hips moved back slightly, then pushed up against you again as his cock nestled between your thighs. He discarded the knife somewhere and bent his knees slightly, sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting them. You sucked in a breath as you felt his cock press against you from behind. It was hot- hotter even that the sand baking against the tent walls and you felt a trickle of sweat run down your neck before he licked it away.

“Ohhhhh…” it was barely an inhale of breath as his heavy shaft pressed into you, smoothly, pushing up until your ass was pressed snugly into his pelvis. While he rested there for a moment, throbbing and impatient, you felt the crop suddenly slap the inside of your thigh. “Mmmm!” You gritted your teeth, arching your back and not sure if you were driving harder onto him or trying to escape the sting of that horrible leather torture device. It slapped against you again, this time on your left breast, directly on the nipple. You tensed violently and heard a strangled groan from behind you.

“Every time I strike you, darling, you clench down on my cock. Since there is barely room to maneuver within you as it is, this is most distracting.” Nonetheless, the wet slap of the leather struck your right breast and then almost instantly, on your left again as he started moving inside you. You were mindlessly doing pullups on the bindings holding you up on the post, trying to pull away, then push back, not sure what you were supposed to do and not really capable of deciding, other than pressing your lips together and dropping your head backward on to his broad shoulder. The crop’s light, sharp slaps began landing closer together as his thrusts moved faster inside you and all you could do was gasp silently and desperately try to stifle your moans as his cock moved harder, pushed higher as the strikes of the leather made you tighten against him helplessly.  “We’re so close now, baby.” His mouth was hot against your ear and he bit the soft lobe sharply, chuckling as you clenched again. “I’m going to place this crop on your body ten more times, and on the tenth, it will be the hardest one of all. And you will come then or not at all during our stay here. Do you understand?” He heard your desperate little whimper hiss between your clenched teeth and he grinned unkindly. 

“One…” another slap on your thigh.

“Two…” one on your stomach, right over your belly button and exactly where the tip of his cock was pressing from the inside. His answering groan told you he’d felt that one, too.

“Three…” it took you a minute to move past the intensity of how hard he was fucking you to realize the strikes from the crop were moving closer and closer to your center, and you mindlessly shook your head. You arched away from it again and let out another gasp as the movement made his shaft push hard against the front of you, setting off a new spray of sensation that felt like a sparkler stroking, stinging and burning against you. Every muscle in your body was strung tight like piano wire and you were shaking, doing everything you could to not scream.

“Ten.”

As you feared, Jonathan’s crop struck directly against your swollen and defenseless clitoris, and he hastily dropped it and put his hand over your mouth again as you both came, shuddering and pushing mindlessly. You bit down - hard - on the heel of his hand and heard him grunt behind you. 

He chuckled again, a little hoarsely this time as he gently lifted you from the eyebolt and off of his cock. “Such sharp little teeth.” You vaguely felt another kiss on the curve of your jaw, “And such a good, sweet girl. Daddy is so proud of you.”

Swallowing heavily, you tried to think of what to say. “Uh, huh?” When his chest started jolting you with his laughter, you closed your eyes and smiled.

 

____________________________

 

Jonathan meticulously bathed Sirène from a basin of warm water and a soft cloth, removing the traces of their coupling, the scent of sweat and sex that was already making him hard again. Laying out a long-sleeved, gauzy-light dress, he nodded to it. "It's cooler now that the sun has set. And I wish to keep as much of you covered as possible." She nodded, still too shy to look at him directly, the way she always was after she came. With an internal sigh, Pine set to dressing in olive-green clothes, so closely resembling his military uniform. Wearing it brought back too many memories, most of which he never wanted to experience again. Tightening his jaw, he turned to see his girl staring at him. "What is it, little one?"

"Um..." Sirène's pink lips opened and closed. "You... look so different. Like a soldier. You were one, once. Weren't you?"

Part of him felt stripped bare as she continued to look him over. "Why do you say that?"

She cautiously reached up to lay the neckline of the olive shirt flat. "Your posture. Always straight, like a soldier's." He could see her getting anxious as he stared at her thoughtfully. Forcing himself to smile, Jonathan gently kissed her. 

“Come, it’s time for dinner.”

________________________

 

Unfortunately, you were dining with Mr. Roper and the rest of his murderous entourage, and even worse, he looked up from the head of the table, which was glowing with dozens of candles and smiled jovially. “There you are! Hello, pumpkin. Come give me a kiss.” His spidery finger tapped his cheek and you couldn’t help it, you took a step backward and stumbled into Jonathan.

His hands came up to grip your upper arms, and he murmured, "Go ahead." You paused a second too long and his fingers tightened warningly. Mr. Roper's finger was still against his cheek, his flat, pale eyes staring at you.

Forcing your numb feet to move, you crossed over the priceless Persian rugs laid to soften the sand beneath you and walked over to the monster smiling that horrible smile. "Good evening Mr. Roper," you managed, "thank you for inviting us to dinner." The feel of his dry, papery skin on your lips nearly made you vomit, but you held back the heave trying to twist your stomach loose.

There was an odd, almost fond-sounding "Awww..." from around the table and Mr. Roper patted your cheek.

"A good girl indeed."

As the dinner went on, you were struck with how beautifully the food was prepared, even if you could barely eat it. The laughter, as always got louder with each bottle of wine emptied and the talk got more aggressive. 

"Tomorrow's the day," crowed Sandy, "the Kashoggi cartel will be speechless with envy when we're finished."

Your gaze was on the linen napkin in your lap, so you missed's Roper's rattlesnake gaze as it moved to Jonathan. "Are we ready for the demonstration?"

"Absolutely," he answered easily.

The glorious sunset was gone and star spread thickly across the sky by the time dinner was winding down. You almost wept with gratitude to see the honeyed figs and nuts brought out for dessert. The comments behind your back from the serving staff got more and more insulting as they passed by you.

"The whore, displaying herself like this..."

"I wonder if she moves to a new tent each night?"

"Filthy American sl-"

"Excuse me." Jonathan rose quickly, taking your elbow and not-quite jerking you up with him. "I must bid you goodnight, gentlemen. There's still a few details I must attend to before tomorrow's guests arrive."

"Of course, my boy!" Mr. Roper said, waving his cigar expansively. "We'll meet together, bright and early."

Pine drew you away with a civil nod to the table of men, and then took you briskly back to the tent.  On the way, you glanced at a group of the local men who'd been serving you dinner. They sniggered, low, nasty chuckles as you watched them. Once inside the tent, he looked at you coldly. "Lock the door behind me. Do not open it for anyone but me."

Your knees felt weak like they couldn't hold you up, but you nodded obediently. 

"Yes, daddy."

 

It was a good hour before he returned, as you rose with a dismayed sigh. "Daddy, are you-

”Now, my darling girl would never forget who she belongs to, would she?” Jonathan’s expression was strange, colder than you’d seen for a while. A beautiful stranger’s face. He was rubbing one hand over the other, and you watched as blood smeared across his swollen knuckles.

“Yes- I mean n- no Daddy?” Your mind was flying, you’d always survived by knowing what was required of you. But the change was instantaneous, the moment he entered the tent. Your indulgent daddy was gone with Jonathan’s expensive suit and the man in front of you, tall and terrifying in his military-style khakis wasn’t giving you any hints. You nervously edged toward the desk in the corner, watching him closely. For a moment, Jonathan’s eyes flared a vivid blue - like a sunset - and then it was gone. 

“Take off your dress. Turn, and kneel on the bed.” Pine’s resonant voice was calm, almost indifferent. He was turned toward the footlocker at the base of the bed. He opened it and took some items out, his large body blocking you from seeing what he was putting across the blanket. “Darling, what is Rule 4?”

You hastily pulled off your pretty dress, tremulously putting one knee, then the other on the army blanket covering the cot. “I w- w- will- Daddy am I in trouble?”

Jonathan paused, turning to you with his brow raised. At the sight of your pale face, he let out a sigh. “No, baby... no. Daddy was just playing a game with you.” His big hand went up, gently cupping your face and you were embarrassed to feel the grateful shudder that went through you. “Those men staring at you... I had to teach them a lesson about who you belong to. I believe I... I brought that back to the tent. To you. Are you still scared, little one?”

Putting your hand over his, still pressed to your cheek, you smiled, almost foolishly grateful to see his kind smile again. “Not anymore, Daddy. I just... would never do anything to disrespect you. I’d never let anyone think I see anyone but you.” He froze, utterly still like a block of ice and you did, too.

Jonathan’s hand moved to under your chin and lifted it, his gaze searching yours. “Do you trust me?” His sonorous voice was suddenly ragged. “Do you?” 

Here was the man who made you call him daddy. Who made you follow his Eight Rules. “Yes,” you agreed instantly, without thinking, completely honest. “Yes, of course.” His arms were around you then, and you stood together, rocking slightly in the dusty silence of your tent.


	15. The Demonstration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pine witnesses something so unspeakable that it finally breaks through his secrecy with Sirène. Also, a shower, a conversation with Jed, and a game plan.

 

Waking up the next morning, you were disoriented for a moment, looking up at the canvas ceiling and hearing the muted chatter of the men outside. You were alone on the cot, but when you listened carefully, Jonathan's low, resonant tone was addressing someone just outside, and you heard the crisp, “Yes, sir!” from a man who may not be military now, but wasn't far removed. You knew next to nothing about mercenaries, but you'd seen the man who insisted you call him “Daddy” speak to some of them at least with respect.

Swinging your legs out from under the rough blankets, you shook your head to see a neat pile of clothes. Of course. Even in the middle of the desert, Jonathan would lay out what you would wear that day. The mercenary he'd been speaking with had apparently moved away because now you could hear the aggrieved voice of Sandy, pitched lower than his usual self-satisfied drawl. You couldn't hear more than the occasional yelp of “cocked up!” And “never… furious…” But it was clear something went wrong and Roper’s lieutenant was worried. Afraid.

'Good,' your spiteful inner voice gloated. 

"There's my sweet girl." Jonathan's purr sent a corresponding shiver up your spine, and you smiled at him sheepishly, not quite able to meet his gaze. After his recovery from Terrifying, Angry Daddy to his usual, controlled self, you'd had two more rounds of utterly satisfying sex after he'd put those mysterious items back into the footlocker. After the whole riding crop thing, you weren't sure you were ready for more. Yet.

"Good morning Daddy," you flushed as his big hand went under your chin, lifting it to force you to look at him.

"So shy..." he mused, a little grin edging around the corners of his mouth. He pulled down the blanket you'd tried to wrap around your bare breasts and suckled one luxuriously, grinning against your nipple when you moaned. 

Jonathan had actually made rather impressive progress between your legs and your hand shoved down those military green khakis that wrapped around his ass so perfectly when there was a violent rattling at the door. He growled as you removed said hand hastily, a bit too hasty for comfort and you looked at him apologetically as he barked over his shoulder. “There had better be a good goddamned reason for this interruption.” Not shouting, he never raised his voice. It was more of a polar chill that coated his words and shaped them into a threat.

"Mr. Roper is requesting your presence, sir." It was the unidentified mercenary's voice, and you sighed soundlessly as you parted from Jonathan, his rough hands reluctantly releasing your bare thighs.

He was still staring at you, his ocean-blue eyes intense as he answered over his shoulder, "I'll be there shortly."

Hastily slipping on your underwear and the long sundress he'd laid out for the day, you wondered if you could probe a little. Something was off, and you knew from your discussion before leaving the island that this exercise must go perfectly. 

 Rule One “I will not speak unless asked a direct question” was a huge pain in the ass. He was not happy, and risking a question seemed like it would shatter the fragile bond you’d both created that morning. So you were reduced to staring up at him in appeal, smoothing your hands over his green shirt. 

With a sigh, Jonathan ran his hands up his sweet girl’s arms. She was doing that little trick again, communicating soundlessly to avoid breaking the Rules, and damn if it wasn't effective. “What do you wish to say, darling?” Her look of gratitude and relief was his reward.

“I… I know things are off. Mr. Roper is angry. Are you safe?”

His gut clenched a little to hear her ask about him. Not them. Not her safety. But his. “He is unsettled, sweet one. You will watch and listen, yes?” His thumbs were stroking along the long column of her neck, and Jonathan smiled at his clever, clever girl. She was twinkling back up at him - there was no other word for it - Sirène’s lips curved in a secretive little grin, much like the one she’d worn that day in his security feed. “And yes, darling, we are…” he hesitated. She was too smart to placate and she deserved more. “We are safe for now.” Her pretty face clouded, but Sirène nodded, bravely slipping her arms around his waist for a moment as he wrapped his around her shoulders. They stood for a moment in the dusty silence of the tent, rocking back and forth slightly.

Roper was indeed upset, and Jonathan watched as the man’s reptilian stare grew sharper as he entered his tent. 

“Pine, I find that several key players have suddenly left the field. A few unfortunate accidents, and Mossaud has disappeared entirely.”

Hiding his shock that Roper was being so forthright, Jonathan shook his head in concern. “Do we have another competitor entering the field?” He watched the other man’s fist tighten, knuckles turning white and tendons straining.

“I believe it’s time to gather all the sheep into the fold and see if we have a wolf among us,” Roper said, his voice flat and emotionless. “Do be certain, Pine, that tonight’s display goes perfectly.”

Inclining his head, he replied, “Of course, Richard.”

You found that sitting just outside the tent’s door but shaded under the canvas awning gave you an excellent view of the camp without being much noticed. You simply kept your eyes on your book and your earbuds in, volume off, and listened. A few jeeps came and went, men loading heavy boxes and some long items that looked alarmingly like missiles into a heavy carrier truck. 

About mid-morning, there was a bustling at the front gate and two Mercedes SUVs came through, stopping in front of Mr. Roper’s tent. To your disappointment, that horrid little Corky was the first one out, looking sourly around the camp as he slapped his sunglasses on. Out next was the tall form of Jed, dressed in a wildly unsuitable fashion in one of her diaphanous, “nearly falling off the shoulder and showing she wasn’t wearing a bra” dresses, which told you she’d had no idea where she was coming. This theory was bolstered by her trembling smile when Mr. Roper came out to greet the little group of new arrivals.

“Richard. Why am I here?” Jed was attempting to come off as light and breezy and sounding a bit more like a whimper.

“I missed you, darling,” his tone was sardonic as he gave Jed a polar kiss on the cheek. “I felt the need to gather everyone close.” The blonde had at least enough common sense to simply smile and head into the tent. You had an uncharitable moment where you wondered if Jed was remembering how Mr. Roper had made you crawl.

 

That was the day when Everything Went Straight To Hell.

 

Jonathan put you back into your tent with curt instructions to stay there. “I’ll have your dinner sent in,” he assured you, pulling on anther set of military-esque khakis.

“Jed’s here,” you ventured, hoping this didn’t violate Rule One. He paused with a furrowed brow so you gather this was a surprise. “And Corky. Mr. Roper said something about needing to gather everyone close.” Jonathan was listening intently as he pulled the shirt closed and began buttoning it. “Jed was completely freaked out,” you said, fighting to keep the satisfaction out of your tone. 

He heard it however and bent to kiss you. “Naughty thing,” he scolded indulgently. 

His mouth lingered over yours before sighing and pulling away. “Be a good girl while I'm gone.”

Giving him your sweetest smile, you murmured, “Yes, Daddy.”

 

You watched the sun slant over the sand outside your tent, the shadows growing longer and longer as the gates opened again and several black SUVs came through. Peeking through the tent flaps, you could see several expensively dressed men, both Middle Eastern and European, all with the cold look of men used to having their way. Mr. Roper was there, greeting them all with that false effusiveness he was so good at. Sandy stood by him, and Corky, too. Jonathan was standing by, emitting his own aura of power that came into play when Mr. Roper introduced them. They all walked off, chatting, and everything was quiet until the first explosion.

The combustive roar of the ammunition sent you shooting out of the chair where you were trying to read, racing to the door to watch the orange and yellow of the detonation shoot up into the sky, about a mile away. Looking to your left, you saw Jed standing in front of Mr. Roper’s tent, bathed in the lurid hues of fire and smoke. She looked over, eyes wide.

“What’s- they’re- what is that?”

“It’s a demonstration,” you said evenly. “Your boyfriend is showing off what his inventory can do.” You’d been listening to the chatter in Arabic all day. It was apparently going to be quite the show.

For once, Jed didn’t have anything nasty to say back to you. She shivered in her inappropriate silk dress and watched the sky glow brighter than noon as the viciously percussive thunder of the ammunition continued to pound against the desert.

It was late, nearly midnight when Jonathan came back, and you stopped in the middle of racing to greet him when you saw his expression. His eyes were red, he’d been crying. He looked gutted. “Daddy?” you said carefully, “Are you all right?”

“The… test village,” he finally answered in a monotone, “the empty tents and buildings we were to rip apart with the stinger missiles and the live rounds. It wasn’t empty.”

Your hand flew to your mouth, your stomach was twisting ominously. ‘Get it together,’ you lectured your heaving midsection, ‘this is about Jonathan.’ “That monster,” you finally said, “I’m so sorry, this isn’t your fault.”

He advanced on you, eyes blazing with a cold, blue fire but you stood your ground. “Who else?” Jonathan hissed, “Who’s fault but mine? I ordered the display, I choreographed it. I…” his handsome face twisted and you thought he was going to cry. “I set off the first missile.”

Grasping his forearms, you stood on tiptoe. “It wasn’t your fault,” you reiterated, speaking evenly, “you didn’t know. Mr. Roper is a monster wrapped in a skin suit. Whatever your role, it didn’t include this.” His hand curled into your hair at the back of your head, cradling it as his forehead rested on yours for a moment.

Sighing, he stepped back. “I must go. If anyone comes here-" he was struggling, you could see it. He could not protect you if he was gone on whatever mysterious errand that was so important. And he had to count on you to keep up the illusion. "If anyone comes here, you and I have been together all night since the demonstration. I am merely..." He floundered for just a moment, and you stepped in.

"You're taking a quick shower. They would believe that since they'd assume we'd..." Now it was your turn to flounder a little and Jonathan gifted you with one of his warmer smiles. 

Lifting your hands, he kissed one and then the other. "Be strong for me." When you nodded, he slipped soundlessly from the tent.

 

It was back to waiting, and pacing, and fretting. You did all three for hours and hours until just before dawn. It was pitch black outside, and you couldn’t have said what made you step outside, but you did. Squinting, you could just see a man staggering toward the shower. You recognized the long legs, even though it looked like he could barely keep on his feet. Kicking off your slippers, you tore across the sand to Jonathan, who was leaning heavily on the wooden shower structure. “Jonathan!” you gasped, “Are you- what happened?” He was covered in mud, head to toe with his blue eyes wide and startling, surrounded by the filth blackening his face.

“Corky caught me returning to the camp,” he gasped. There was a wheeze in his throat that made you worry about broken ribs, but you slung an arm over your shoulder and helped him to the stall. 

“Is he…?” You didn’t know what to ask, but Jonathan simply nodded. “Okay, okay. That’s- that’s good. Take your shower. I’m going to get rid of these clothes and get you some clean ones.” He was gritting his teeth as he undressed, and you hated Corky even more when you saw the nasty bruising blossoming along his chest. Even though he was little, you knew Corky would be a vicious, brutal fighter. Scampering back to the tent, you rolled up Jonathan’s filthy, bloody clothes and shoved them at the bottom of your suitcase. You’d find a way to burn or bury them in the morning. Returning with his clean clothing, your heart twisted to see him slowly soaping his battered body, a blank expression on his face. 

“Hey,” you whispered, holding up his robe and helping him into it, then putting his hand on your shoulder so you could draw his sleep pants up those long legs. 

Jonathan was startlingly, strikingly tough, you already knew that. But it was the smallest groan between gritted teeth as he laid back in bed that told you how much he was suffering. Fetching some aspirin and water, you urged him to take it. “I’m sorry there’s nothing stronger. Do you want a drink?”

He shuddered. “No darling, thank you. They were all toasting to the success of the demonstration with champagne. I can smell it on me still.”

You sat for a moment, running your fingers over his forehead, feather-light. “Did you get your, uh, thing done?”

Those brilliant eyes opened again, watching you. “Yes.”

There was so much you wanted to ask him, so many things you wanted to know. But the one thing you knew with absolute certainty since the moment he’d walked back into your tent, still fresh from the horror of those lives lost in Mr. Roper’s sick “demonstration,” was that Jonathan Pine was not a criminal. And whatever game he was playing here you suspected was on behalf of some government. He’d mumbled once in his sleep, “Keep her alive…” and now you realized he’d meant you.

Now, it was your turn. “Corky has to be the traitor. Especially now that he’s dead. It will throw Mr. Roper off the hunt, right?” 

Jonathan’s eyes narrowed and he stared at you, motionless. But you nodded firmly, and he finally nodded back. “I do not want you involved in this, little one.”

You shrugged. “But I am. And that’s not your fault either.” He fell asleep then, and you sat curled next to him, watching the sun come up.

 

When Jonathan finally dragged himself from an exhausted sleep, you watched him force his body through a series of painful stretches until he could walk without wincing. After a slow breakfast, you finally worked up your courage. “They’re going to start looking for Corky. I want to go visit Jed.”

“No! Are you mad? She hates you, darling. What could you be thinking?” He was clearly furious with the idea and before he could cut you off, you leaned in, taking his hand.

“She came to visit me when I was locked in the cell- in the basement? I think Corky was trying to get her to set me up to run again. She’s pretended for years to have no idea that the psycho she’s sleeping with is a criminal. An arms dealer and a monster. But she knew it in that cell. I could see it. She’ll do anything to save her own skin.”

Jonathan was staring at you, but he didn’t look surprised by your revelation, which made you wonder if he already knew about Jed’s little visit. But he shook his head. “Sirène… This is utterly mad.”

“Please, Daddy. Please trust me on this.” You didn’t realize you’d called him Daddy until after it was out of your mouth. When he kissed you, hard, pressing his mouth down against yours you knew he would say yes.

So, while Jonathan went about his business, like everything was fine, like nothing horrific had happened the night before, you walked over to the tent Jed was using. You knew after watching yesterday that Mr. Roper was not sharing it, which she had to know was a deadly strike against her. When she opened the door, her eyes were puffy and red and her silk robe was open, her breasts almost falling out.

“What do _you_ want?”

"To talk," you promised, "just talk." You swallowed your dislike. "I think we're both going to need a friend." 

Jed reluctantly stood aside to let you in and then crossed her arms over her chest defensively. You looked around for a moment before focusing on her. “Has Mr. Roper been by yet?”

“What are you talking about?” Jed blustered, “We were fucking all night!”

“Jed,” you tiredly rubbed your forehead, realizing you’d not slept for at least 36 hours. “It’s all falling apart. I know you can see that. Why do you think you’re here? If we’re not careful, we won’t be leaving this desert.”

“Don’t include me with your worthless-”

“JED!” you hissed, “Shut the fuck up and listen to me! If Mr. Roper is going down, do you think he’s going to let you live to testify against him? Your best bet on getting out of this with your head intact is trusting Jonathan.” You hated, _hated_ the look of hopeful lust on her face. "God, this isn't about fucking him!" It was a weak moment, but you really despised this greedy bitch. Forcing down your desire to punch her in the face and send that perfect nose job of hers all sideways, you continued. "Corky is gone."

"Gone? What are you talking about? He was-"

"He's gone, Jed. And when Mr. Roper asks where he is, you'd better suggest that when you saw him last night, he was really upset and unstable. And that you haven't seen him since. If your boyfriend believes you, you'll be back on the jet as his innocent girlfriend."

Now the blonde was stepping away from you, stumbling slightly as she stared at you incredulously. "What are you talking about, you stupid- Wait, what happened to Corky?"

You moved closer to her, a little threateningly, even though the woman towered over you. "Do you remember when Mr. Roper made me crawl on the terrace that day?"

Jed nodded unwillingly.

"I don't doubt for a second that you pictured yourself on your hands and knees. You know, Jed. You _know_ what he is. Play the part and convince him about Corky." She really was beautiful, you thought dispassionately. So much more so than you. You could see why she'd been surprised and upset that Jonathan didn't want her. Why she resented you. But now you had to believe that she valued her own survival enough to make the jump.

"Okay," the blonde finally agreed, eyes getting red and teary again. "I can do that. But if you and Jonathan leave me behind, I will make sure Richard knows-"

"You won't," you interrupted. "We won't leave you behind. But you'll never say a word. Because you know he'll be selling you for that snuff film, too." Clamping your mouth shut, you turned and walked out, legs shaking. Behind you, you could hear Jed burst into self-pitying sobs. But she'd play her part. You knew it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ding, dong, the bitch is dead!! Sorry, I just hated Corky. I was so happy when Jonathan finally put the little bastard out of our misery.


	16. "Yes, Daddy. Yours."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jonathan tries to scare Sirene. Jed tries to look delicate and helpless. And Sirene wants to punch them both in their pretty faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how I managed this, but I swiped my thumb left once and managed to erase half the chapter. I'm so sorry! If it looks like it made absolutely no sense, now you know why. Hopefully everything should be back in order now.

 

 

 

Unfortunately, your encounter with Jed seemed to be the only productive moment of the day, annoying as it was. Jonathan was stalking back and forth in the tent, his hands on slim hips and not speaking to you, other than listening intently to your discussion with Mr. Roper's mistress and kissing you proudly.

  
"Clever girl," he'd said, and you beamed like a needy little moron. Moron, because though you'd acted as partners for the last highly stressful 24 hours, it was back to you watching silently as he smoothly interacted with the men in camp, and then returned to pace the tent again, frequently consulting his Garmin Fenix 6 for the time.

  
"Can you..." you began, then paused, frustrated. Why did it always feel like back to square one with him? Hadn’t you proved your worth? That you were trustworthy? Jonathan did stop as you trailed off.

  
“It is best that you know as little as possible. Every new piece of information puts you in greater danger.” His features were hard, almost unfriendly and you fought down the urge to shriek at him.

Instead, you have a humorless little huff. “Daddy, I’m already in danger. I can’t be any more in danger than I am. Please, watching you pace is freaking me out.”

  
The beautiful man who still - more or less - owned you stopped in his circuit of the tent, his most forbidding expression now directed at you. “Oh, you have. No. Idea. Little. Girl!” Jonathan spat, striding toward you now and grasping your upper arms. “Don’t even think about the snuff film Dickie promised you. It would start with a beating. Perhaps from Frisky, he enjoys waterboarding- almost drowning you over and over.”

“Stop! Please, Jonathan, just-”

  
“No, darling you did want to know, didn’t you?” He was relentless, stalking you as you tried to back up. “Do you think this is a game? A bit of an excursion? That when we leave this place everything is wrapped up in a tidy bundle?” Your back hit the center tent post with a thump. “No, even if this is successful, there's more. There is an insurmountable mountain of misery and death designed by Dickie- Dickie - such an entertaining name for a genocidist - and it is possible I will be dead long before I can scale to the top of it-" Jonathan stepped back, gritting off the angry stream of words and staring at you with his old look of cold authority.

  
But you pressed your lips together and glared right back. You knew it wasn't time to talk. But not because he terrified you into silence. Not this time. He watched your mutinous little face for a moment. “Stay here,” he tersely ordered and left the tent. You groaned. Again.

  
You took up your position again. Just in front of the door, headphones in but not on so no one would talk to you, just watching and listening. It was Sandy that finally gave you a clue. He was chuckling in his odiously self-satisfied way, walking along with the man who appeared to be commanding all the mercenaries in camp. “The government already issued an apology and released all the trucks and their drivers…”

The other man mumbled something that you strained to hear, but Sandy was cheerful and louder than he should have been. “Of course not. They’re not risking an international incident.” They both glanced over as they passed your tent, and your eyes darted to your book, foot swinging as if in time to a song on your iPod. Just as you were about to give up and head inside, your khaki-clad daddy came striding around the corner. Aaaaand there was that idiot Jed, scampering to the open door and gazing up at him as if he were her Big Strong Savior. For fuck's sake! You'd figured she'd be a better actress after boning that psycho for so long. Jonathan frowned down at her absently, looking mildly confused, but politely indifferent as she frantically batted her big, blue eyes at him. You nervously glanced around the camp, and of fucking course! Here comes Mr. Roper, and his thin little mouth was tight, staring at his idiot girlfriend who was focusing her limpid gaze on YOUR- Your? Mine? If you were his, he was yours, even if he didn’t know it yet. So you stood from your chair, pulling out your earbuds and strolled over to the awkward triangle, standing just behind Jonathan’s left shoulder and head dipped submissively, just like a good pet would be. Your appearance distracted the monster staring at Jonathan who was standing next to his tall, stupid, supermodel girlfriend.

“Darling,” Mr. Roper drawled in his horrid, entitled tone, “Have you seen Corky?”

  
You felt Jonathan’s hand on your elbow, pulling you away from the others.

 

Back on the jet that afternoon, you watched the sun slanting over the sand, turning the dunes golden. You’d been seated away from the others with your useless phone and an admonition from your Daddy to sit quietly. But because you were seated just so, without any music going, you could hear the monster’s conversation with Jonathan rather clearly.

  
“It’s a pity about Corky,” Mr. Roper drawled. “There’s always a chance to come clean. Admit your betrayal. It is useful to have someone to distract the agents. Misdirect MI6.” His language could not be sharper, more focused at Jonathan with a look of cold skepticism.

  
You squeezed your hands together to keep them from shaking. ‘Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!’ you chanted mindlessly. But Jonathan’s face never changed expression, looking politely concerned for Mr. Roper’s displeasure over Corky’s presumed betrayal. By the time the pilot announced you were descending into Cairo, the two men were chatting easily again. But you could see the fractures beginning to mar the smooth surface of Mr. Roper’s certainty that he knew his protege.

Cairo was everything you'd dreamt it would be: crowded, cacophonous, colorful. But you saw only what you could with your rigid position: legs crossed, hands folded demurely in your lap and eyes straight ahead. There was a malevolent energy in the expensive SUV that made you want to be invisible. Jonathan ignored it, conversing easily with Mr. Roper while you and Jed kept your mouths shut like the dutiful like arm candy you were. Sandy was already breaking out the scotch from the SUV’s bar. After what felt like 362 hours later, the car pulled up to the entry of the suitably over the top Hotel Sofitel Cairo Nile El Gezirah. Still... you nearly stumbled as you stared across the soaring lobby, staring at the Nile River flowing past the massive terrace.

  
"Little one, what are you looking at?" Jonathan's mouth was right next to your ear, making you jump and then shiver a little. That voice of his ... so deep, that perfect enunciation.

  
"It's the Nile River..." It was all you could manage to say, but he seemed to understand, smoothing your hair with a gentle hum. Sure, the water was dirty, crowded with boats, echoing with shouting and singing. And it was beautiful. "I've waited my whole life to see it," you breathed, almost in tears. Your daddy seemed to understand, standing with you, one hand possessively on the small of your back as you watched the exquisite, peculiar green water flow past.

  
Finally following Jonathan down the spacious hallway leading to your suite, you were discouraged to realize it was directly across from Mr. Roper's. You knew this because Frisky and Tabby were carrying in Jed's voluminous luggage. You stepped closer to the wall as another woman passed you to give her room, she was pregnant and looked hot and tired, poor thing... The other woman didn't spare you a glance but you slowed, looking behind you. The pregnant lady in town that day, in the Seychelles- that was her- you remembered those big, expressive eyes, the pregnant belly. She still looked hot and cross, like she did when trying out all of the flavors of gelato. What would the odds be that she was here? Jonathan noticed you slowing, looking behind and took your hand, pulling you along rather brusquely.

 

Pine’s POV:  
How much worse could Angela’s timing be? He was fairly certain she was eager to tear into him about the debacle of the munitions convoy. But when Sirene’s steps slowed to look after her curiously, he wondered if she’d recognized Angela somehow from the town square in Beau Vallon? Now that Roper was making it clear he intended to keep an eye on him by booking the suite directly across the hall from him, he must be even more vigilant. When they entered the suite, he strolled around casually as the porters put the luggage in the bedroom. When they left, he abruptly pressed his sweet girl against the wall, aroused by her widened eyes and the sudden uptick in her heartbeat. Placing a finger to her lips, Pine pulled out his cellphone, pushing an app and scanning the room. It flashed green, indicating the room was clear from listening devices, but the conversation now could be fatal. Angela swore the bug sweeping device was state of the art, but then, so was Roper’s network of spies.

  
Typing with one thumb while he rested the fingers on his other hand on her mouth, he typed, “Not sure the room isn’t bugged. No words other than responding with ‘Yes, Daddy,’ to whatever I say.” Her gaze swept over the text and she nodded under his hand.

  
“Such a good girl,” Pine soothed, “Daddy is very proud of your good behavior on the jet.”

  
“Thank you, daddy.” Her voice could not be sweeter, more obedient, and he gave her a wry smile. He leaned closer, enjoying the scent of her, the slight tinge of anxiety.

  
One long finger reached out to smooth over the sleek lines of her collarbones, pushing her silk shirt aside. “In fact,” he continued, “I think my darling girl deserves a reward.”

Jonathan almost chuckled to see her eyes go cartoonishly wide as she looked around the room, clearly wondering if they were being heard. And unfortunately, he couldn’t guarantee they weren’t. “Shhhh… baby,” he soothed before kissing her. God, her mouth… lush lips and always so sweet. No cigarettes or alcohol to taint the taste of her, and she opened easily when his tongue prodded her mouth. A little sigh, and she carefully put her arms around his neck.

  
This was the moment he felt at peace, Jonathan thought a little feverishly, calm. He’d been on the razor’s edge of death for months now, no respite, no break from the carefully constructed shell. But with this girl… she accepted everything, almost without questions, surviving in their artificial construct and even offering her help. But no more- god, what if Dickie had seen her stare at Angela?

  
Keep her alive... She must be his demure little angel. “My precious girl.”

  
Sirene gave a startled little yelp when he abruptly hoisted her higher, wrapping her legs around his narrow waist and rubbing his thickening cock against her center. She dropped her head, resting her cheek against the side of his neck so he could hear the soft inhale of breath when he pressed harder.

  
“Ohhh…” it was the lightest breath from her, but it perversely made him even harder.

  
“Have you been missing Daddy inside you, darling?” Pine deliberately purred, knowing it would send up an enticing spray of goosebumps over her soft skin.

  
“I…” a pause, then she remembered. “Yes, Daddy.”

  
The room was silent, other than their suddenly labored breathing. Jonathan was acutely aware of the feel of his girl, the warmth of her skin, the way her arms tightened around his shoulders when his hips pushed more harshly against her. His clever, brave girl. “So sweet, my good girl,” he drawled, before running the tip of his tongue over the pulsing cord in her neck. One rough hand was pushing the dress higher while the other cupped her bottom, holding her steady. “Sirene, unzip my pants and take me out.” He grinned against her mouth when her legs tightened.

  
“Yes, Daddy.” It was more of a breath than a sentence now, but she reached down to loosen his belt and unzip him, very carefully taking his painfully hard cock out.

  
He reached down and impatiently ripped away her undies, kissing her a little apologetically. “I believe I must take you shopping for more knickers, darling. We do seem to run through them, don’t we?” Incongruously, he could feel her breasts shake a little against his chest as she giggled soundlessly. Stroking one long finger, and then two against her rapidly wet entrance, he finally twisted his wrist and slipped them smoothly inside her.

  
“Oh! God- I- I mean Daddy!” Now Pine was laughing soundlessly, loving the feeling of their bodies rubbing against each other as they tried to stifle their chuckles. Her giggles died off into a long moan he angled the thick tip of his cock against her.

  
Drawing back just enough to see her lovely, flushed face, he whispered, “Are you ready, sweetness?” He watched avidly as her lips pursed for a moment as if wanting to kiss his before they shaped the words he enjoyed so much.

  
“Yes, Daddy.”

  
After that, it was a single brutal thrust to the top of her, enjoying his sweet girl’s gasp and drawn out moan, drawing another moan and another as he began to push into her faster. Inside, she was heat and wet and silk. Her body pulled him inside her, vibrating as she shook and tightened against the weight and drive of his cock. “This… you… feel so good, baby.” His voice was hoarse, less controlled than he preferred it as a daddy with his girl. But nothing could feel as good as this. Gripping his long fingers harder into the cheek of her bottom, Jonathan moved his hips faster, snapping against her soft pelvis and enjoying the corresponding jolt and whimper each time. His other hand slid higher, gently gripping one breast, squeezing the soft flesh and then stroking his thumb across her nipples. “Mine.” This came from nowhere, but he couldn’t take it back. “Mine!”

  
“Yes, D- daddy!” she managed, panting and trying to answer him in a voice so high and breathless that it was almost unrecognizable.

  
Dropping his forehead to her shoulder, Jonathan hissed, “Then come for daddy, darling. Come now or I will not allow you to come for a week.” The threat was enough, and he felt her back arch, pushing them away from the wall until he growled and bit her neck, knowing it would bruise, knowing it was a mistake to mark her so ostentatiously but not able to stop himself. She was loud in her finish, and it made him grin again as he greedily drove towards his own. Her grip inside made his cock nearly immobile until he braced his feet and pushed upwards one last time, boiling over and inside her, coating her with his finish and making him love the slick of them both binding their centers together. “Such a…” Jonathan groaned, trying to focus and lock his suddenly shaky knees, “such a very good girl.”

  
And one last whisper from his wonderful, perfect darling.

  
“Yes, Daddy, yes. Yours.”

 

 

 


	17. An Uncomfortable Shopping Spree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Roper decides Serene is of more use as a ... gift for someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so terribly sorry for taking so long! I've never had a writer's block like the one that's crushed my skull over the last six weeks. If I have a Muse, she's the meanest bitch on North America. On the bright side, I have the rest of the story figured out. I'm not going to lie to you. There will be smut.

 

Jonathan's phone was buzzing angrily on the bedside table, but neither he or Sirène were in any position to anything about it. Their current position, in fact, had her balancing precariously on the antique credenza in the bedroom while he was thrusting aggressively in and out of her, enjoying the moans she was trying to hold back.

____________

 

“Sh- shouldn’t you get- OH! Shouldn’t you get that, Daddy?” You were making a valiant attempt at trying to be responsible. If Jonathan’s phone was ringing, there were very few people that could be on the other end, and all of them dangerous.

“In a moment, darling,” he grunted out, so far from his usual urbane calm. 

Wrapping your legs more tightly around his waist, you watched his reddened face, eyes narrow in concentration. There was something wildly flattering, even a little powerful at seeing how far he could depart from his icy composure when he was inside you- and the thought made you moan and the orgasm swept over you.

Oh! Daddy, I’m sorry canIpleasecomeIthinkIalready-” you managed to blurt out, but Jonathan could already feel you clamp down on his cock, making his forehead drop to your shoulder with a groan as he paused.

“Bad little girl,” he admonished, his stern correction undercut by his panting. Sliding you down to rest your back against the wood surface, he straightened and began thrusting against you. You could feel yourself spasm against his cock and he shoved you further up on the credenza as he pushed into you harder. The muscles in your thighs were trembling - you’d been at each other for hours, but you couldn’t seem to stop.

“Just for that, I will require you to come for your daddy again.”

Your eyes were drooping closed, but another sharp thrust opened them wide. “Uh, daddy- I- I don’t think I can,” you moaned. You were feeling all … gooshy inside and warm and the feel of his overly generous cock felt more natural inside you than being empty. 

“You can,” Jonathan purred, “you can.” He diabolically stroked - very gently - stroked your clit with his thumb, an odd variation from his aggressive thrusting inside you. But your undoing was when he leaned in close to whisper in your ear. “Of course you can come again, my sweet, sweet girl. I can feel the wet satin of your slick cunt tighten along me, how your thighs are gripping my hips. And this little button…” he gave another swipe of the pad of his thumb along your swollen clitoris and you made an embarrassing little cross between a yelp and a moan. “Still so responsive, lovely. So, yes…” his hips began angling experimentally, pushing harder, stroking into you until his cock slid along that spot that lit up like a sparkler, sending little tingles through you. “I do believe you can come again for me, darling.”

Looking up into his face - beautiful with his sculpted cheekbones and those blazing eyes, watching you so carefully, analyzing your responses - you were helpless. When had a man ever looked at you this way? Had controlled your body so easily? Took as much pleasure in your finish as his own? Shakily bracing one elbow on the credenza, you rose enough to look down at where he joined with you, the sight of his fingers stroking along you. Shyly reaching down, you bracketed his cock between your fingers, feeling where he parted you, how slick you both were. “How do you fit…?” you mused, and that was apparently the was just the thing Jonathan needed to lose his composure, growling and moving his hips so quickly that he was jolting you with his thrusts again. You could feel that thick vein along the bottom of his shaft swell and your dark daddy pressed his thumb down - hard - on your slick pearl and you both exploded in a fury of heat and wet.  

________________

 

For a moment, the only sound in the quiet hotel suite was their harsh breathing, and Pine rested his head between his sweet girl’s breasts, smiling against the soft surface of her skin. “Such…” he tried to gather his composure, but it was difficult, “such a very good girl.” Their little moment was ruined by the buzzing of his phone, starting up again like a particularly persistent wasp. With a sigh, he carefully pulled from her, pressing a napkin from their room service breakfast against her center. 

Not bothering to put on a robe, he stalked over to the phone naked. “Pine,” he said crisply, allowing just a touch of impatience to enter his tone.

“Oh, there you are Jonathan.” It was Roper, sounding a bit impatient himself. “We have work to do today before meeting our new clients this evening. Remove yourself from … your suite and join me downstairs.”

“Very well,” he answered, about to hang up until Roper spoke again.

“Jed and Sandy’s wife are about to embark on what I am certain is a shopping trip of heroic proportions. Why don’t you send your little girl along with them?”

Jonathan frowned. “Caroline is back?”

“Yes,” the man’s voice was thick with satisfaction and a bit of mockery, “our dear girl has come back into the fold.” 

Knowing how the woman had left in a rage, furious, tearful and humiliated at Sandy’s careless infidelity, it seemed like a stretch. Which meant … Roper was losing trust in his mistress. Which could mean it was spilling over into not trusting him. Or Sirène. 

God _damnit._

“I’m sure Sirène would love to,” Jonathan lied, ignoring the alarmed look she gave him as she slipped on a robe. Watching her cover-up that lovely body with some disappointment, he ended the call. His girl watched him, wide-eyed with concern from his expression, but she waited to see what he’d tell her. A wave of fondness nearly swamped him, surprised at the intensity of it. She was so intelligent, this girl. Being torn from their lives would swamp most young women, but his Sirène was strong, watchful. Courageous. 

Putting his big hands on her cheeks, cradling her face, Jonathan smiled down at her. “Can you be my brave, clever girl today?”

 

Shaved and dressed, Jonathan strolled into the terraced area where Caroline was having breakfast, waiting for Jed. “You’re back,” he smiled kindly, gently kissing her cheek.

“Well…” the woman seemed to flounder, and he watched the tight lines of fear around her mouth. “Couldn’t stay away, I suppose.” Caroline attempted a little, breezy laugh that came out more like a croak.

“Ah,” he nodded. “It does seem as if Dickie had you brought here to spy on Jed. I hope that is not the case.” He heard the click-clack of expensive sandals slow behind him and turned to see Jed, frozen in place.

“Is that true?” she whispered, staring at the terrified Mrs. Langbourne. Pine walked away, keen ears still hearing the woman sob, frantically murmuring that Roper had threatened to take away her children. Jaw tight, he took Sirène's hand. She'd been waiting just inside the door to the lobby, and her hand was a little sweaty. 

"Be my smart girl," he soothed, kissing the soft skin on her forehead. "Listen and pay attention, all right?"

"Yes daddy," she nodded, rewarded with another kiss.

"Ah, young love..." 

She tried not to shudder. The voice of the monster, oily with satisfaction was right behind her, and she flinched slightly as Roper patted her head.

"Run along, dear. Go have a nice playdate with Jed and Caroline." He looked at Pine with amusement, "Now Jonathan, don't be stingy, give the girl your credit card. You know how the ladies love to shop."

"I don't need..." Sirène tried to head off the uncomfortable moment, but her daddy's card was in her hand in a moment, and he wrapped her fingers around the square of plastic.

"Get something pretty to show daddy later," he said, and she nodded reluctantly.

"Yes, daddy."

________________

 

It was, of course, just as miserable as you'd expected it to be. You trailed behind the two older women as they strolled through the ridiculously expensive shops. You looked longingly over at the brightly colored bazaar across the street - filled with all kinds of goods and redolent with wonderful smells from dozens of little stalls. Jed and Caroline, however, had headed straight for the stores they could find in any major city- Hermes, Gucci, Tiffany. They weren't enjoying it, mechanically scrolling through the hangers while speaking together in hushed voices. You stayed just close enough to listen without alerting them. If that fucking idiot Jed cracked and blabbed to Sandy's wife... there would be no way the woman wouldn't gallop straight back to Mr. Roper. When you heard her whisper about her children in a shaky voice, you realized why she was sent to spy on Jed.

That monstrous son of a bitch.

After another excruciating two hours, they finally decided they’d bought enough. Looking at a disgruntled Frisky weighed down with shiny shopping bags was the only high moment of your day. Jed looked down at you, her lips pulled back in a sneer. “You didn’t get a thing. Didn’t your _daddy_ tell you to shop?” Staring back at her, any empathy fizzled out as Caroline and Frisky both giggled.

With a sigh, you turned to one of the counters near the entrance to the store and fortunately, it was men’s ties. Your eye caught on a grouping of blue-hued neckwear and you smiled at the man at the counter. “May I see those, please?”

“Of course, miss,” he smiled graciously, laying out eight beautiful lengths of silk ties, extolling the virtues of the finely crafted cloth … the perfectly tailored features … and you ignored him as you felt the ties between your thumb and forefinger.

“May I have these four, please?” You handed over the neckwear, painfully aware that they were around … _‘Let’s see … 64,498 Egyptian pounds would be… shit, four thousand dollars? Jonathan is going to kill me!’_ But it was too late, the man had plucked the credit card from your numb fingers and was ringing up the ties, carefully putting them into a glossy black box and handing it all to you with a flourish.  You smiled weakly and joined the other women.

 

When you entered the hotel’s expansive lobby, you saw Jonathan standing with Mr. Roper and some other men, apparently just greeting each other. For half a second, you saw a flicker of … something pass over your daddy’s face before he nodded politely. One of the Egyptian men looked at him curiously as you walked up to him.

“-know you?” he was saying with a frown, and Jonathan shook his head, smiling blandly.

“I don’t believe so. Ah, here you are, darling.” He reached over to curve his arm around your waist, and the other man’s attention fixated on you. You instantly disliked him - he was giving you a sleazy grin and sniffing in a way that indicated the remnants of white powder dusting the tip of his nose wasn't powdered sugar He was expensively and sloppily dressed and had that "rich asshole" vibe you always hated.

"And who is this, Pine?" He was still blatantly leering at you and Jonathan subtly pulled you a bit further back and just behind him. 

"Ah, this is my lovely girl Sirène. Darling," he nodded to the other man, "this a very important client, Mr. Freddie Hamid."

You nodded with a nervous smile. "Hello, Mr. Hamid." He reached for your hand, dragging it up to his mouth.

"Charmed," he oozed, and Jonathan smoothly drew you away before his lips could touch you. 

"Freddie!" your daddy re-directed him, "Do come meet Dickie's lovely..." You let out a sigh of relief as the spoiled thing moved in Jed's direction.

Taking your arm, Jonathan moved you in the direction of the elevators. “And what did my little girl find on her shopping trip?” he murmured, knowing you’d give that little shiver when he whispered in your ear and of course, you did.

“Um…” your heart sank. “I’m sorry daddy, I found something but I didn’t realize how expensive it was because it was in Egyptian pounds and I’m very-” He’d already taken the bag from you and opened the box inside, his brow rising to his hairline. “I just thought … they’d look nice with your eyes?”

When his eyes met yours, they were the color of the Mediterranean, and you shivered for an entirely different reason. You knew that look. “Oh, my clever, clever little girl. Did you buy daddy four ties? What a convenient number.”

“Conven-” you gathered his meaning and blushed violently. “Oh, daddy, I didn’t … uh….” 

Chuckling wickedly, Jonathan kissed you, just under your ear. “These shall definitely come into play tonight, darling.” You made a helpless, high-pitched little whimper and he bit your earlobe subtly. 

“Pine! I need you here, my boy!” 

You both groaned quietly to hear Mr. Roper’s drawling tone and drew apart reluctantly. “Why don’t you go relax, take a nap, lovely. We will be entertaining guests tonight.” Your gaze darted ever to where Freddie was staring at you again, and you smiled weakly.

“Of course, daddy." 

 

The sun had set - blood-red over the Nile and the garish lights of the casinos surrounding the hotel were nearly blinding as you stood on the balcony leading from your bedroom, shifting a bit, trying to draw the zipper up on the dress.

“Ah!”

Warm lips attached to the back of your neck and you heard the low chuckle as Jonathan drew your zipper up.

“How do you glide around like that, daddy? You scared me half to death!” It was an uncanny skill of his - suddenly behind you or in front of you or picking you up and heading for the bedroom before you even knew he was in the room. You suspected it was part of his past as a soldier, another thing he wouldn’t speak of. So much was a mystery about this man, but you suspected that the moments he showed you - when he was inside you and purring beautiful filth to you, when you came together, gasping and moaning - you felt sure he had not shared them with many others. It was more than just sex, but you didn’t dare think of another label.

“Poor darling,” he soothed, “daddy didn’t mean to startle you.” A look at your skeptical expression made him laugh out loud, and his unguarded pleasure made you feel like this was another thing he rarely shared. While he dressed, he asked you about the afternoon and any information that might be helpful.

“I followed their conversation very closely,” you admitted, “but they only spoke about Caroline’s children, how scared she was that Mr. Roper might take them away.” Jonathan’s beautiful face was dark as he listened. “I was most worried that Jed would freak out and start babbling about us, but she managed to keep her mouth shut.”

“Good girl,” he approved, pulling on his hand-tailored suit jacket.

You daringly reach up to smooth the lapels of the jacket, enjoying the solid feel of him under the expensive fabric. “Daddy?”

“Yes?” His attention was focused on buttoning the cuff of his shirt.

“If Mr. Roper is suspicious of Jed, he’s seen how she looks at you, hasn’t he?” Jonathan’s fingers slowed. “And that means … it means he could be suspicious of you?”

His rough, warm hand came up to cup your cheek. “It will be all right. You’ll be my brave, observant girl?”

You pressed your lips together. Why wouldn’t he talk to you? Tell you what the hell was actually going on? Who he really was? “Yes, daddy.”

 

______________________

 

Watching Sirène glide gracefully ahead of him into the crowded casino, Pine allowed himself a moment to enjoy the view. She was wearing something far more daring than he usually allowed, a dark green silk gown with sprays of glittering sequins on it that flashed and moved as she walked. Her ass was beautifully rounded, and while he usually led her everywhere, he was enjoying the view.

Seating her at the table where the men in Roper’s group were gambling, he spotted Jed shifting around nervously at the bar. “I’ll be right back,” he said to his sweet girl, and she nodded back, smiling a little uncomfortably as a couple of the men they were entertaining - including that bastard Hamid - looked her over thoroughly with shoulders and most of her back bared in that dress. It was becoming a worse idea the longer they leered. 

“Smile, chuckle as if I’d said something amusing,” Pine said between his teeth as Jed stared at him as if he was her knight in shining armor. “Can you get the code to Roper’s safe? It is crucial.”

Jed was giving a thin, high and unconvincing laugh and he groaned internally. “Yes, I- I think so. If he’s sending Caro to check up on me, you know he suspects, you know he-”

“Ah…” Pine’s white teeth flashed in the low light, “it means nothing at this point, other than Dickie is logically paranoid. But if he had reason, it wouldn’t be Sandy’s wife he’d be assigning to you. You can do this.” Her sweaty hand brushed his, a couple of fingers trying to link with his. Smoothly pulling his hand away, he tried to use his most reassuring tone. “You _can_ do this, Jed. You can.” Looking back over to the table, his throat closed up to see Freddie edging closer to Sirène, and worst- Roper looking between him and Jed, his face coldly furious.

As the night dragged on, and all the women at the table began cringing as Freddie Hamid got progressively drunker as he lost more money. And the more he lost, the louder and more abusive he was to the staff, the other well-dressed guests beginning to look at their group.

Roper leaned in, speaking softly. “Losing in daddy’s casino. It must be a metaphor for something.” Pine laughed politely. “Dear boy,” he continued, polar gaze scanning the room, “do go find Freddie’s minders, would you? It’s time to take him home.”

Watching the rich bastard’s flushed, drunken face, Pine fought down his hatred, his desire to stab him right there in the casino. Nodding politely, he murmured, “Of course.” But as he strolled away, he already knew he would make a quick circuit, send his little girl to their suite, and take Hamid home himself. A helpful associate. And then he would kill him.

But during his casual walk around the tables, he lost sight of Sirène just long enough. Long enough for Roper to lean over and instruct his driver to, “Take Mr. Hamid home.” And as the drunken fool began to protest, he interrupted quickly, “Now, now Freddie. Sirène will accompany you, to make sure you are … put to bed.” 

Her eyes widened in horror, but Tabby gripped her upper arm in one meaty fist and helped Hamid out of the room with the other. The bodyguard moved with a speed that she would not have thought his bulky self was capable of, and he yanked her along as if she weighed nothing. Digging in her heels as much as she could, she looked for Jonathan desperately, but she only caught the eye of Jed, who carefully turned away as she was dragged out of the casino and into the luxury SUV with a gleeful Freddie.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I was telling @MyOxisbroken, the tie story is actually based on a trip I took to France with the hubs. I was buying him a lovely silk tie and screwed up the exchange rate and the little bastard ended up costing me $1,100 USD. FOR A FUCKING TIE! And I was too intimidated to refuse it at that point so I handed over my credit card. My husband, of course, thought it was hilarious and ended up getting it framed and hanging it over our bed.


	18. You Came For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sirène may be going down. But she's going down fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincere love and gratitude to anyone who's still reading this little tale. My fucking Muse got married to an Elvis Impersonator in Las Vegas, packed her bags and bought a chinchilla farm in Los Alamos. She finally showed up this week with a plate of cookies and an insincere apology. But at least I'm writing again.

 

 

This can’t be happening. It can’t.’ The same stunned denial kept cycling through your consciousness as you moved around the backseat like a desperate gerbil, trying to hike your dress up enough to move while keeping it down from Freddie’s effort to stick his hand up your skirt. That bastard Tabby had slid up the privacy screen between the front of the car and the back, or you would have catapulted yourself into the front seat if you’d had a chance.

“Lil’ slut…” he slurred, “cm’ere.”

“Fr- Freddie,” you tried to sound firm, “you’ve seen Jonathan Pine. Does he seem like a man who shares? He will be very angry, Freddie.”

A confused frown drew his brows together. “I’ve seen him … before. Do I know him?” His sweaty hand seized your ankle, and for a lazy, spoiled trust funder, he had quite the grip. 

You were about to take off one of your high heels and stab him in the eye, repercussions be damned when the car stopped and a leering Tabby opened the door to see you almost in Hamid’s lap and his hand on your leg. Seeing his home seemed to galvanize the drunken idiot, and he yanked you out of the back of the car, heading for the front door. You looked back at Mr. Roper’s scumbag bodyguard. “You know Jonathan will be furious!” you shouted. He laughed and waved goodbye mockingly.

“I’ll give him your regards.”

The house you were being dragged into was palatial, of course, the huge, open living room centered around a large, shallow (pool? Fountain? bidet?). As his grip refused to loosen on your wrist, you remembered your bartending days. _“If someone’s already shitfaced and being an asshole, you get him drunker until he passes out.”_ It was your old boss, a no-nonsense woman who’d taken a liking to you. _“You just pour that booze down his throat until he’s unconscious and deal with him then.”_

“Freddie,” this time you used your sweetest tone. “May I get you a drink, sir?”

His chest puffed out, as you’d hoped and he threw himself into a chair, waving his hand grandly. “Yes. Good. A vodka tonic.”

You kept him entertained by deftly flipping a couple of bottles of liquor, making a bit of a show as you poured him a drink. Could you crack him over the head with one of the heavier ones, knock him out? Jonathan would come. You knew that. But what kind of trouble would it mean for him if you really hurt the son of one of his most valued clients? 

“Where’s my drink, slut? HUH?”

You juggled two limes, smiling at him with too many teeth. “Just a touch of lime, sir?’

He settled back, you could tell he was probably seeing double, because he kept squinting his eyes. One drink, maybe two? You added a splash of tonic to a full tumbler glass of vodka, waving the lime over it with a flourish. Freddie grabbed your hand, splashing the drink on your wrist. To your disgust, he latched onto the skin and started sucking greedily. “Sit on my lap, girl!” He took a swig of the cocktail and you got up quickly. 

“Why don’t you finish that sir. I’m just going to use your bathroom to uh… freshen up and be perfect for you, yes?”

He waved his hand in agreement, sending another generous splash on to the expensive tiled floor.

You found the bathroom, followed by his squinting gaze, which, unfortunately, meant you couldn’t look for another exit.

You shut the door with a nervous smile and groaned internally when you found there was no lock. “Shit!” you whispered. ‘I just have to stall him until Jonathan gets here…’ your train of thought derailed when it hit you: what if Jonathan didn’t come? What if Mr. Roper held him there, or he couldn’t find Hamid’s place, or-. You slumped against the sink.

What if you weren’t as important as whatever game he was playing? 

Running your hands through your hair and trying to compose yourself, you wondered, when the _hell_ did you become so trusting, so dependent on Jonathan? Washing your hands, you looked in the mirror and gritted your teeth. You were in Egypt. With no money, no passport and everyone who loved you thought you were dead. And if Jonathan didn't come in time, you may as well be. Something hit the bathroom door and shattered.

"Slut! Come out here!"

"Fuck _you,_ Freddie!" you whispered. Whether Jonathan showed up or not, you weren't going to make this easy for this drunk son of a bitch.

 

________

 

Jonathan could feel it, the instant he returned to the table. Sirène was gone. So was that drunken fool, Hamid. And Roper was wearing a half-smile that made it all clear. He’d been angry before, of course. Many times. Jonathan had worked for years to conceal his emotions, control his reactions. But right now there was a red haze over his vision that made it difficult to speak, to even swallow. He veered away from the table, ignoring the shouts from Sandy to rejoin them. He knew from working in a five-star hotel like this one that they would definitely have an address for the owner’s son. A vision of Sirène’s pretty face, smiling up at him this morning made his throat close.

_Keep her alive._

____________

 

Approaching the couch again, your heart sank when you saw Freddie swipe a finger under his nose, wiping off the last of the white powder. Oh, god. You were so screwed. The coke would counteract the booze and give him extra energy and strength. “H- how about another drink?”

He rose unsteadily, coming for you. “No more of that. Now I drink up you, slut. Come here. Take off the dress.” He was attempting to walk confidently, but he bumped against a table and sent the lamp to the floor. You flinched at the sound of shattering glass, back in your little, dirty home and your parents were fighting again. They were fighting and it would turn on you soon. “I buy you many beautiful things,” Hamid was bragging, “not like this rag.” He reached up and ripped one of the straps, making the dress sag and show part of your breast. It seemed to encourage him and he laughed, wiping the back of his hand across his nose again.

“Oh, sir…” you forced a smile, angling around him, trying to get the pool of water between you. “Let’s just relax for a moment, shall we? I’ll- I’ll undress you first, shall I?” Maybe if you could get his pants around his ankles, knock his unsteady ass over and run… You stifled a shriek as he grabbed the back of your hair in one angry fist, twisting it cruelly. 

“You waste my time, whore!” he shouted. “You think you can say no to me? To _me?”_

You gritted your teeth, refusing to scream and kicked off your high heels. Hamid was short enough that it worked to your advantage, your head snapping back, not hitting him in the nose, but at least clipping his cheekbone and making him howl, letting go of your hair to touch his face. _‘Fucking pansy-ass,’_ you thought. He was cursing you in a mixture of English and Egyptian and you ran toward the door. _‘Almost there… almost just-’_ He got his arm around your throat and hauled you backward, both of you off-balance and landing in the pool. He pushed you underwater, you could see his blurred profile, his enraged eyes bulging as his hands came around your throat. You panicked for a second, hand flailing at his face before you realized your leg was between his and you brought your knee up with every ounce of fury in your soul. You heard the muffled sound of his howl before you broke the surface of the water and screamed, “No, fuck you! Fuck you and fuck your entitled, worthless ass! I’ll kill you first, I swear-”

You were abruptly cut off as you were hauled back with a strong arm around your waist. Jonathan briefly cupped your cheek. “Don’t look, Sirène.”

And then his hands were around Freddie’s throat and he was someone else. Even the times Jonathan was angry or harsh, he was still Jonathan. This glittering-eyed, stone-faced monster gritted something out just before he shoved Freddie’s head underwater. “Do you remember Sophie? Do you remember the woman you beat to death?” The man’s face went slack with shock and recognition, and then he was underwater and all you saw was the violent splashing as the stranger in Jonathan’s suit drowned Hamid.

 

_____________

 

Angling his jaw away from the man’s frantic, clawing fingers, Jonathan saw nothing, heard nothing but a white buzz in his head as he waited for him to die. ‘ _Hamid was drunk. He fell into the pool, knocked himself out and drowned.’_ The cold part of his brain recited calmly. _‘A tragic accident.’_ His white-knuckled grip on the man’s throat and shirt didn’t loosen for several minutes after the struggles stopped and the body under him went lax, a trail of blood coming from its nose. It had always stunned him. The change from a breathing, living human to … a husk. A shell. Finally shoving the pile of meat in an expensive suit away from him, Jonathan watched it float on the surface of the water before turning to climb out of the pool. He stopped short when he found Sirène sitting motionless on the edge, arms crossed over her torn dress and staring at him. Her face was sheet-white and she was shaking.

“Little one?”

She didn’t answer him, but she didn’t move as he cautiously approached her, hands up. “It’s all right, sweetheart. It will be. Let me take you away now.” He got within touching distance and she surged forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. Suddenly tired, Jonathan sat on the tile and lifted her on to his lap, rocking her slowly.

Pulling away after a moment, her eyes were red. “You came.”

His brows drew together, confused. “Of course. Of course, I would.” His girl buried her face in his neck again and they sat for a moment in the silent house, Freddie’s body bobbing gently in the water.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the bright side, I have half the next chapter written, though admittedly so far it's 100% smut. Not that you're surprised.


	19. Erasing the Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jonathan more than makes up for Sirène's ordeal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH! My lovely and clever SallyMagnolia has written her very first Loki fic, and it's a juicy thing to sink your teeth into! Find it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22077070
> 
> I LOVE this line from the story! "As punishment for boarding my ship, I shall take you hard, in every way that I know you fear."

 

Jonathan’s suit jacket was wet along the edges, but you were still grateful when he slid it over your shoulders, helping you put your arms in the sleeves. He’d sat you on the couch for a minute as he rapidly cleaned everything up, leaving Freddie’s half-full glass of vodka overturned next to the pool and making it look like the spoiled little bastard had fallen into his own pool, stinking drunk and drowned.

You finally found your voice as he was rolling his sleeves back down, buttoning his cuffs. “Wh-” Your mouth was so dry… “who does this have to convince?”

His beautiful face was expressionless, but Jonathan gently helped you up. “I can supply enough … information to make it appear Hamid was behind the latest intel blunders. Even his father would have him killed for betraying the family business.” 

Nodding, you looked down. “Okay.” It was inadequate, but you had no idea what was appropriate conversation after an attempted rape and then murder. He helped you into a black Mercedes, the hood was still warm from his pushing the engine to the limit to get to you. Leaning in, he buckled your seatbelt for you, a little thing but it made tears swell again. He looked over, the side of his face lit by the instrument panel. 

“I won’t ask you if you are all right,” he said. His smooth, beautiful voice was like a balm, washing over you and making it easier to breathe again. “I am sorry I was not there to protect you from being taken.”

You shook your head. “It’s not your fault. It’s not. You’ve kept me alive, this entire time. Thank you for…” You faltered. Thank you for drowning Freddie? Thank you for murdering a man for me? You finally gave a wet-sounding chuckle. “I am so unprepared for this specific conversation.”

His hand covered yours clasped in your lap, warm, big and soothing. He drove in silence for a moment and then chuckled. “I should have left him to your fury. I have no doubt you would have finished him off.”

It was such a grisly little joke that you stared at him, shocked. Then you started laughing, too.

 

__________________

 

Jonathan took her through a side door, arm around her protectively. The look on his face was forbidding enough that everyone, whether guest or staff turned away. He took her straight to the huge bathroom in their suite after locking the doors and started the water flowing into the tub. How could he have let this happen? Hamid would have raped her, possibly beaten her to death. Just like … He’d seen the look of shock and recognition in the bastard’s eyes when he spoke of Sophie. He couldn’t save her, but at least he avenged the woman, with her soft brown eyes and quiet way of speaking.

But _his_ girl? He would burn Roper’s world down before he let him hurt Sirene again. She’d been passive, quiet while he carefully undressed her, tossing the torn gown aside with a reminder to throw it away. He kept flashing back to the sight of her, straps torn and breasts displayed, still fighting as that bastard Hamid had his hand on her throat. For a moment, the red haze returned and he breathed deeply, forcing himself to be calm. This was about her. About Sirène. She was huddled on the little bench by the steaming tub, and he smiled down at her, trying to help her feel safe again.

“Come, little one. Let me help you into the bath.” Pine wanted to be in the hot water with her, desperately, but it was important to simply care for her first. She sat silently for him for a while, allowing him to pick up an arm, or lean her forward to wash her back. Rinsing her flushed skin gently, Jonathan’s mouth tightened to see the bruises forming on her skin- on her upper arms, her wrists and worst, around her neck. She bruised so easily, his little girl. In the past, he’d left marks, fingerprints on her soft ass, sometimes on her waist as he held her while pounding into her. But those marks, he treasured. He’d seen her look at herself in the mirror once, twisting to see the faint bruises of his hands on her inner thighs with that secretive little smile of hers. It made these marks even more upsetting, repellant.

Holding up a warm terrycloth robe for her, Jonathan smiled down at Sirène kindly. “Come, darling. Let Daddy take care of you.” Her pretty eyes rose to his, and his gut clenched when she smiled shyly. That he could have lost her to that monstrous little rich boy… 

 

_______________

 

Jonathan seated you on the bed, kneeling before you. His pale eyes were searching yours. “How do you feel?”

Shrugging awkwardly, you mumbled, “I’m okay.”

He shook his head. “No, little one. Tell me what you’re thinking.” His hands were smoothing along your bare legs, his rough fingertips catching slightly on your skin, but it was comforting.

“Shaky, I guess,” you were honest, “it doesn’t seem … real now. Like a bad dream.” His big palm halted when he found a developing bruise on your thigh.

“Oh, sweet girl…” he almost sounded like he was mourning, and his dark head bent over you, kissing the mark on your skin. “He hurt you. I should have been there sooner.” His lips found another developing bruise, “He marked you.” There was a sudden fury in his voice that made you shiver, and Jonathan seemed to realize it, drawing back and running his fingers softly over your skin. 

“Really,” you protested, “it’s nothing, daddy. You came before he could do anything. I tried to get him drunk enough to pass out - he was so close! Then he snorted some coke and then…” You shuddered for a moment and your dark and dangerous daddy picked up your hand, putting it to his cheek. But his gaze rose to you and it was utter fury. There was no more talking then, Jonathan utterly consumed in searching out each bruise that Freddie made on you and erasing them, kissing them and suckling the skin softly, putting his mark on you instead. He ran his tongue along the bracelet of gray and purple fingerprints on your wrists, then putting your hands on his face, cupping his cheeks as he stared at you. “Never again,” Jonathan murmured, really to himself, you thought. 

Gently pushing you back on the bed, he arranged the pillows behind you, making sure you could see everything he was doing to you. 

And he did … everything. After kissing over every mark on your body, he rose over you, looking down with what you were certain was sadness. With a feather-light touch, he stroked over the bruises on your neck. But then his mouth descended on the marks and you gasped. He sucked on each one, bringing more blood to the surface and darkening the bruises to shamelessly obvious hickeys. It hurt - it should have hurt more but at the same time, his fingers were sliding through your folds, circling your clitoris and dipping teasingly, in and out, in and out of your channel. When you tried to close your knees against the wildly conflicting sensations, his knees went on the inside of yours, spreading them open again while his mouth was busy against your throat. 

“I can’t erase the marks of that worthless bastard,” Jonathan soothed, “but I will cover them. Replace his violence with my…” He paused for a moment and you held utterly still, watching him flounder for the right word. “With my care,” he finally said, burying his face in your neck, your hair, kissing along your jawline. Your throat was stinging, but his fingers inside you were driving you half-insane, and the exquisite alchemy of his rich, deep voice made you swallow down a shamefully needy whimper. “Your skin, little one. So smooth and soft outside. But inside you…” Jonathan’s voice dipped to a resonant growl and your toes actually curled, “inside, you are so heated, slippery. You feel like wet silk to my fingers.” Your unfairly beautiful daddy moved over you, “Oh, but to my cock?” You felt him at the entrance to your channel and your thighs unconsciously spread wider, clenching hopefully against his hips and he chuckled. “It is heaven inside you,” he groaned as he slid easily through you, making you feel full, full to bursting but in the best way. He was on his elbows over you, fingers gently moving your hair out of your eyes, caging you inside the sheer size of his body. After a moment, feeling him throb inside you but simply settled there, you cautiously bucked your hips a little, hoping it would make him start. But he only chuckled, running a thumb over your furrowed forehead. His pelvis was pressed tightly against your center, and your sensitive clit was being tickled by the hairy base of his cock. His sac pushed against you from below hot and heavy and you spread your legs wider to make room for him.

He was lazily kissing you, his firm lips against yours, sucking your lower lip, then your upper one. His tongue traced the inside of your mouth and while it all felt good, you needed him to start moving, you _needed_ it. 

 

________________

“Please, Daddy…”

Her voice was small, but Jonathan could hear the neediness behind it. Her thighs were shaking with the effort of squeezing his hips, her pelvis shyly trying to lift and encourage him to move. 

“Not yet, sweet girl. Can you be good for me, can you wait?” He wanted to stay buried inside her, holding her in place under him, surrounded, protected.

Her hands were in his hair, fingers carding through his curls and scratching his scalp. He doubted she was aware of it. 

“I… why?” 

Running his mouth over one high cheekbone, Jonathan fought a smile. “Because Daddy wants you to wait, lovely.” He knew it was unfair, but he rolled his hips against her, moving impossibly deeper inside her, pressing down hard on that heated spot at the top of her and it made her moan again. He could feel her velvety walls pulse, and it almost undid him. Taking her wrists, holding them together over her head, Jonathan could feel her pulse flutter impatiently there as well, matching the rhythm of her squeezes against his cock. He circled his hips again, pulling out the slightest bit, only to settle inside her again. She moaned then, pleading, maybe desperate. 

“Not yet, baby. Be still for daddy. You’re doing so very well, such a good girl. You are fire inside, god-!” He could see her desperation, but that also Sirène wanted to please him, make him proud. Her eyes were huge, staring up at his, gnawing on her lip and making little noises that were driving him insane. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-” she swallowed heavily, trying to concentrate, “You, Daddy. You of cour- oh, god please…” 

Another slow rotation inside her, making his base rub over her lovely little clit, harder than he’d ever felt it. Jonathan’s heart was pounding, he was filled with emotion that he wasn’t used to, couldn’t process. He only knew he wanted to stay inside her forever. But her pleading expression and sweet, desperate little noises made him capitulate, pulling reluctantly from her clinging channel and holding himself, poised and as frenzied as she was for their finish. “Now, my mermaid, come with me _now-”_ And he plunged back inside her, pounding greedily and gritting his teeth against the intensity of her tight, twining channel, turning his grip on her wrists to lace his fingers with hers and came himself, violently and with a surging rush of relief. His girl was safe. Under him, inside her, bound together in every way.

They fell asleep almost instantly, he was still inside her, faces pressed together.

 

___________________

 

Waking the next morning to pounding on the door, we rolled apart and I rubbed my eyes. All the bruises and the battle with Hamid last night were making themselves known and I briefly hated him before remembering he’d never hurt anyone again. Jonathan was pulling on a robe and answered the door in the next room. There was a low conversation, his tone was curt and cold, and then the door shut and he walked back in. He was holding a piece of paper, crinkling it restlessly between his long fingers.  
I slowly got out of bed, stretching cautiously. I could see my name on the paper, it looked like Jed’s sloppy handwriting. I wanted to ask, but I waited. Were we a team again? Or was I just the little girl?  
Jonathan smiled then, ruefully. “Yes, lovely, it has your name on it. But it is for me. Some numbers I needed.” Nonetheless, he handed it to me and at first glance, it looked like a shopping list of clothing, numbers, I assumed for sizes.  
“This isn’t another shopping spree from hell, is it?”   
He almost laughed, leaning in to kiss me. “No, no more shopping.” But he offered nothing else and I reeled under a sweep of fury. Why wouldn’t he fucking tell me _anything?_ I almost died last night! What else could I do to prove he could trust me? But he walked away to get dressed, and after a moment so did I.

 

___________________

 

“That’s impossible,” Jonathan was quietly furious. “You have the code. You get the documents out.”

Angela was unimpressed by the tight line of his mouth, absently rubbing her stomach. “She has to help me. I need someone to keep watch and Sirene can engage anyone who comes by long enough for me to get in and get out. If everyone follows the usual pattern, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Jonathan put his hands on his expensively suited hips, pacing back and forth. “Putting me in danger is expected. Putting her in more peril? She hasn’t suffered enough? No.”

“Yes.” His head shot up, vivid blue eyes burning into hers, but Angela stared back. “We can’t stop now, Jonathan. We’re there, we’re so close.”

He drew in a deep breath in his nose, letting it out again slowly. "I must get back."

She was brushing her hair, curled up on the window seat and his heart contracted. His sweet girl. How could he ask more of her? But when Sirène smiled up at him, he forced down the anger. "Hi, Daddy," she said, "how was your meeting?"

With a sigh, he sat next to her, taking her hand. "I need to tell you- I need to explain ... things."

 

 


End file.
